The Love Offensive: A Pleasant Surprise
by Angelinsydney
Summary: I melded "A Pleasant Surprise" and "The Love Offensive" into one seamless love story, I hope you enjoy the reworked version as much as you did the originals. I changed a few things in order for the two stories to fuse together. THANK YOU Spinnie fans, despite the fact this was a merger of two previously written stories, it has received 8,500 hits. Looking forward to 10K.
1. A Pleasant Surprise

**A Pleasant Surprise**

Winnie has been at her desk since 7am. She has despatched Team 3 to diffuse a domestic emergency involving a man who has been threatening to throw his 3 year old boy out the third storey window following a dispute with his ex.

It was Spike's day-off. He's only at HQ to retrieve some personal stuff he forgot to take with him the night before. On passing Winnie's desk he gave her a brief wave of acknowledgment. She nodded and gave him a tight smile, still speaking on her headset. A wave. Always just a wave. It's the story of my life. Three years. Sigh. But who's counting?

Winnie forced herself to focus on the call; forcibly pushing the thought of her secret to the back of her mind. Every night she tells herself she's not in love with Spike, how can she love someone she hardly knows? Yeah, keep telling yourself that. If you say it often enough you might start to believe it.

Inside the locker room, Spike gathered his uniform to take them to a laundry cleaner. Since his mom left for Italy, he has had to look after himself so things like the laundry just had to be outsourced. He worked long hours and often overtaken by exhaustion but the two things he won't compromise on were keeping his apartment clean and tidy and cooking his own meals. But the laundry? Who cares who does them as long as it's done.

As he passed through the corridor, he could hear Winnie passing information to Donna, Team 3's very efficient Sargent and Chief Negotiator. He doesn't know why but he stopped on his tracks and watched Winnie out of interest. He's never seen her at work. Well, he's seen her but never really taken any interest, so from his peripheral vision, he watched Winnie do her thing.

Winnie was surrounded by three computer screens, each one giving her live updates and information on a "needs basis." She has her headset firmly in place on her head and was listening to all the noises and the voices, sometimes all speaking at once. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, mining for information. She was the princess of multi-tasking. This went on for a good half an hour.

Spike could tell from where he stood that the situation has escalated because Winnie suddenly stood up, and started pacing. It struck him how emotionally invested Winnie was to the Team. This surprised him as she always sounded detached on the head set. He has never heard her voice waver once and sometimes has been a steadying influence when shits have hit the fan.

Winnie cupped her hands to her mouth to keep herself from shouting out, closed her eyes and whispered, "Jesus." Her shoulders sagged, unable to cope with not being able to be out there herself, to help out, to do something. He knows the feeling. He has often been left out in the truck while Sarge or Jules negotiate a subject down to safety. He sits there sometimes trying to swallow the bile from coming out of his stomach. It is the unknowing that really saps your energy.

He thought back to a case, a time when Jules was negotiating with Jamie Dee, James Dun Leavy, the Boy Wonder. He sat in the truck, hardly blinking and hoping against hope that it does not come to that. He can still remember the deep breath that escaped from him, from the depth of his soul, when it was resolved without a shot being fired.

Spike didn't take his eyes off Winnie who continued to paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then, almost feeling faint, she sat back down.

Spike didn't ask for permission. He didn't ask to be invited, which surprised him in a way. He just grabbed a chair and sat next to Winnie. He grabbed the extra pair of head set from the drawer, he put it on so he could listen in. At that moment, they looked at each other, intensely.

Without words, Spike took both of Winnie's hands and allowed her to squeeze his hands as the tension built. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now and she's inhaling and exhaling. He followed her rhythm to aid her breathing. As a member of the SRU, he has training in sniper breathing. In one instance, he had been assigned Sierra One. If it came to it, he could have taken down the man who shot his Team Leader, Ed Lane, seven times. Not many people acknowledge it but Spike has a 95% shooting accuracy. He has to, if he was to remain a member of the SRU Team One. Bomb tech or not! Computer geek or not!

Breathing with him meant Winnie didn't get to hyperventilate. People just tend to breathe too quickly for their own good when stress or under duress. After three exhales, Winnie was following Spike's breathing, steady and rhythmic, they were still focused on the call.

"He's tossed the boy," it was Donna's voice. The voice was professional and calm. Donna said it as a matter of fact, how she does it is beyond me, I would have been screaming my heart out, thought Winnie.

"I got him," it was Todd, he was a floor below the father and the son and he just caught the boy in time as he sailed down through the air.

They both heard everyone gasp as Todd dangled on a rope with the boy wrap in his arms. They could hear Todd's strained and pained voice as the rope burned into his skin. The impact of his shoulders against the wall would certainly cause massive bruising but that's nothing compared to the joy he would be vicariously feeling with the toddler clinging around his neck, terrified, traumatized but very much alive.

The save was followed by a flurry of activities. Winnie took control again; took control of her emotions, her senses and her mental faculties. Asking the EMS questions, "Where are you taking the child?" Spike became aware how self-sacrificing she must be to be putting someone else's welfare before hers. Of course, they all do that but she sits here without so much a pat on the back. They at least get to back slap each other for a job well done. He resolved that from now on he will acknowledge her and say, "Well done" when they wrap up.

"Copy that," she said politely when told to send in the crime technicians to survey the crime scene.

Everyone was winding down but Winnie was still on the call wrapping things up. Spike sat there just watching her. A new respect formed in his consciousness for this delicate looking woman. He was pleasantly surprised at her efficiency and her dedication to her job and to her fellow emergency workers.

How does she cope with all the stresses that come with the job? He thought. I've got the Team to back me, she's got no one, at least none that I know of.

He looked at his wrist watch, it's nearly time for Winnie to clock out, too. He voiced the first thing that came to mind, "Would you like to debrief that call with me?"

Winnie turned, as if realising that he was still sitting next to her, she searched his eyes and translated the question, "Are you asking me to go out for coffee?"

"Yeah, I am," he replied. He has never ever noticed it before but now he's aware of it, there's a certain loveliness about her.


	2. What the Hell Just Happened?

**What the Hell Just Happened?**

Spike woke up to music – as always. He never liked the idea of waking up to the trilling sound of an alarm clock, in his mind it was so primitive.

The song was John Denver's "Perhaps Love." He listened to it, wide awake. He stared at the ceiling, stretched out on his bed, his arms above his head. His chest rising and falling.

_Perhaps love is like a resting place_

_A shelter from the storm_

_It exists to give you comfort_

_It is there to keep you warm_

_And in those times of trouble_

_When you are most alone_

_The memory of love will bring you home_

_Perhaps love is like a window_

_Perhaps an open door_

_It invites you to come closer_

_It wants to show you more_

_And even if you lose yourself_

_And don't know what to do_

_The memory of love will see you through_

_Oh, Love to some is like a cloud_

_To some as strong as steel_

_For some a way of living_

_For some a way to feel_

_And some say love is holding on_

_And some say letting go_

_And some say love is everything_

_And some say they don't know_

_Perhaps love is like the ocean_

_Full of conflict, full of change_

_Like a fire when it's cold outside_

_Thunder when it rains_

_If I should live forever_

_And all my dreams come true_

_My memories of love will be of you_

_And some say love is holding on_

_And some say letting go_

_And some say love is everything_

_Some say they don't know_

_Perhaps love is like the Mountain_

_Full of conflict, full of change_

_Like a fire when it's cold outside_

_Or thunder when it rains_

_If I should live forever_

_And all my dreams come true_

_My memories of love will be of you_

"Perhaps Love" was just one of thousands of songs in his ipod. He's heard the song countless time but just now it seemed to bear new meaning. He exhaled, and shut his eyes, `What the hell just happened?'

Spike dragged himself to the shower to scrub off the residue of his confusion. `I'm going mental' that much he was convinced of. There was a time when his life was on a perfect equilibrium. In the past 24 hours, he had become unhinged.

After coffee with Winnie that fateful day, he was caught unaware. The mixed, confused thoughts and feelings were both intimidating and pleasing. `Do I move forward? Do I pull back?'

`Deja vu', it seemed not too long ago he had this conversation with blond, beautiful Natalie, "Yeah, I thought about it last night, and right now, I'm not ready for week-ends in cottages."

He got out of the shower still unsure what he wanted. At any rate, he was determined to go to work and pretend nothing had changed. But clearly something had because he was disappointed to find Sydney at the despatcher's desk. `It's her day off.'

"Mornin Syd"

"Hey, Spike. Ready for a busy day?"

"Always," he said cheerily, or what sounded cheerful enough.

He went straight to the locker room where Sam and Raf were having a go at each other, `Ugh this early', there's no escape when they're like this. He hoped against hope they wouldn't notice him but that was really hoping for too much.

Spike was just reaching for his sweatpants when Raf asked how he spent his day off. If he admitted he spent it mostly with Winnie, he wouldn't hear the end of it so he gave a safe answer, it was true after all, "took my washing to the laundry."

"Wooo, how much washing did you have?" teased Raf. Spike smiled and just said, "If you need me, I'll be at the workshop. Babycakes need some TLC."

Raf and Sam looked at each other and communicated telepathically, `Something's up.' The two followed Spike down to the basement.

"Spill." It was Raf. Spike looked at the ceiling, it's becoming his favorite object. It seemed like forever that the three of them stood there. Finally Spike sat down on the stool in front of baby cakes' scattered pieces and cryptically said, "I don't know what hit me."

"Ah, ok. We can help, we're the expert," teased Sam but when Spike didn't come back with a repartee they knew it was bad.

Raf picked up the conversation, "Let me guess, Winnie?"

"How'd you know?"

"Team 2." Of course, nothing was secret or sacred around SRU HQ. Winnie and Spike were on the way out when members of Team 2 were arriving for their shift.

"How do I know she's the one?" He asked, feeling like a dumb ass.

"You don't," said Sam. That helps. "You only know that you want to know her ` and you take it from there. Trust me, you may not even know for sometime. But you won't know till you give it a go, buddy."

"Just go with the feelings, man." Raf sagely said.

"I think the problem is that when it's not a formula or an equation, you don't know what to do," `Heard that before, he thought. `Lewis used to say that to me all the time.'

"You know what else is wrong? You overthink it!" `Well, that's new.'

Raf continued, "In life, some things just don't add up. It 's not always one plus one equals two. It's not always two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom equals water. It doesn't work that way."

"Loving someone..." Sam thumped his chest lightly, "a lot of it is a decision you make within yourself... to love someone... in spite of, despite of."

"I haven't found someone yet," said Raf, "but I know when I do, I... I'd be the first to let her know. Do you know what I mean?"

Spike didn't get anything done. `Sorry, Babycakes.' But at least he thinks he has an understanding of what Sam and Raf meant. A refrain played inside his brain, and played it in a constant, irritating, maddening loop

_Perhaps love is like the Mountain_

_Full of conflict, full of change_

_Like a fire when it's cold outside_

_Or thunder when it rains_

_If I should live forever_

_And all my dreams come true_

_My memories of love will be of you_

At the end of shift, Spike pulled out his phone and dialled a number.


	3. Mommy

_Author's Note: Reworked and tweaked from the original._

**Mommy**

It's Winnie's day off. She left home at 19 to live independently of her parents, so once a month she and her mom would go out on dates to do "girly things." If there was one thing in the world she's most grateful for, it's having the world's best mother. Cool mom, that's what her friends call her. Mrs Winifreda Camden was the "go-to" adult among her peers, their secret was always safe with her, not to mention the added bonus of enjoying her home-made pancakes at the end of every "confession".

Window shopping was a favourite past time of the Camden women. Trying on clothes they couldn't afford and taking silly photos in them the other. Both Camden were petite, genetically blessed in the weight department. Although Winnie, due to how much she ate and how much time she spent sitting at work, didn't take the blessing for granted. She's into exercise, running and yoga her work-out of choice.

Mother and daughter ate lunch at their favorite Toronto bistro, Lady Marmalade. Mrs Camden watched Winnie picked on her salad, alert number one was triggered. It was never her style to pry. She always waited for Winnie to open up. Her parenting philosophy was simple - interrogation never works. Children will say what they think you want to hear to get you off their backs. So, on to Parenting 101 – go for a safe topic - talk about the weather.

"Nice and sunny out there," she said coolly.

Winnie turned to the windows, "We should take our meals and eat out."

"I think we should eat our food here and take our dessert outside. There's a park nearby." Mrs Camden countered.

"Yeah, you're right. Office workers are probably sunning themselves now, so yeah, let's wait another 40… we can have the park to ourselves." Winnie was still picking on her salad, this time she absentmindedly separated them. Carrot on one side. Cucumber on the other.

"Are you trying to make some sort of abstract art with your salad?" Mrs Camden asked with a grin. Winnie smiled back, "Sorry I'm not good company today. I've been thinking…."

"Uhum."

"Mommy, I hate you when you do that."

"What did I do?"

"You know, when you uhum…"

Mrs Camden shrugged her shoulders and feigned ignorance. "Let's go to the park, it'll take us 30 minutes to walk there anyway." Winifreda called for the bill and insisted on paying for it.

The women ate their gelato as they walked in peace. Both occupied with their own thoughts. Winnie made occasional comments about the changes happening in Toronto City, updating Mrs Camden who was mostly domiciled in suburbia. She didn't venture out to Toronto unless it's for a date with her precious daughter.

They reached a deserted part of the park. The grass was turning slightly brown. Its early Fall, some trees were beginning to shed their leaves.

Winnie sat on the grass, under the shade of a maple tree. She looked very pretty in her simple yellow sun dress. She had her sunglasses on to protect her eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun and to hide the confusion behind her eyes.

Mrs Camden sat next to Winnie. Parenting 102 – remove the camouflage. "You don't need this under the shade," she said and removed Winnie's sunglasses from her face. A pair of reddish eyes stared back at her.

"Do I have to ask?"

Winnie laid her head on her mom's lap and cried silently. Mrs Camden stroked her hair liked she always did when Winnie was a child. Like when she was all broken up when her pet puppy died. Or, when she lost her favorite soft toy bunny called Bunny.

After five minutes of this, she heard Winnie's voice, "Mommy, do you remember Spike?"

"How can I forget? He's all we talk about," she half laughed.

"We went out for coffee yesterday, after a very hard call at the end of my shift. Actually, it went from coffee to dinner. I've always liked him, mommy."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"He's such a nice guy, Mom," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "But now I'm confused because when he didn't pay any attention to me, I always hoped he would. Now that he had, I'm scared. Mom, I made it a rule, my own rule, not to date cops."

Her wise mother simply asked, "Why? Why did you make that rule for yourself?"

"Oh, I suppose I see so many colleagues with broken marriages; the hours and the stress, so much to worry about. When they're out there confronting bad people… And it would just complicate things."

Winnie sat up to face her mom, desperate for her wisdom, "I don't know if I can take it if it doesn't work out. I feel safe when there's a distance between us because all I can think about are the risks involved. I'm scared shitless."

Mrs Camden laughed softly, she repeated the words in her head: _risks, scared shitless._

"Win, have I told you my love story? Mine and your dad's?" Winnie shook her head sideways.

Mrs Camden drew a deep breath, "When I met your Dad, he was engaged to be married. It was love at first sight for both of us. We fought it, you know. We fought our feelings but your Dad…. he made a decision a month out of the wedding to back out.

"Hurt a lot of people but your Dad decided that he couldn't live a lie.

"He left for the UK for a year. That was the hardest year of my life. Then and now. He didn't want me to be blamed for the broken engagement. And I supposed... so… he could be sure of how or what he felt for me.

"He didn't contact me for a year. There was just nothing, you know. But I made a decision to believe. I just decided it wasn't over until it was. In hindsight, it was a foolish thing to do. Only that it turned out alright for us."

Mrs Camden held her daughter's face, "In love and in life, everything… everything you do… you'll have to take risk. There's risk involved to say 'yes' and a risk to say 'no.' It'll take extreme courage to open yourself up to possibilities. Wait and see what happens before you make a decision. Every choice you make will cost you something."

Mrs Camden looked deep into her daughter's eyes, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Winnie nodded, "It's my choice… and whatever decision I make will cost me. Or I can wait… and see what happens next." They talked some more, of mundane and ordinary things.

"Mom, I'm hungry for pancakes now." Her mom got up first and held out a hand. At that, they got up to head home where pancakes rule.


	4. Bridget and Liley

_Tissue Alert –_

_Before reading this chapter, please read the story "Let Destiny Speak" if you haven't already, for no other reason than to help you feel where Spike is at._

_This is a chapter about spiritual love to the extent that we can attain it. It is rare so those of us who have experienced it are indeed blessed._

_I believe that at one point in our walk, we will come across deep, binding love that transcends time and space. I am a true romantic, and I know you are, too or you wouldn't be reading this._

**Bridget and Liley**

Spike dialled Bridget's number. He tried the veterinary hospital first. To his bewilderment, he was told Dr Bridget Senna had resigned, "When?"

"A month ago," came the reply from the vet's assistant. He hanged up and dialled Bridget's mobile phone. It rang five times before someone answered. Male, not that it mattered. "Who's calling please?"

"Mike."

He heard him asked Bridget if she wanted to take the call, "Hi, Mike," she sounded tired and weak. "Bridg, are you ok?" This was followed by deafening silence at the other end, "Bridg, talk to me."

"I'm good." But every inch of his being told him no, she's not ok. Something's wrong.

She's lying. But over the phone was not where you discuss deep-seated personal issues so he made a decision to go see her at Thunder Bay. "Bridg, I'm coming. Expect me tonight." He hanged up before Bridget could say anything more. His mobile rang, it was Bridget trying to get back to him. "Bridg, don't call again. I'm coming. End of story."

He checked his wristwatch, 3pm. He checked his roster, his next scheduled shift was not till 3pm tomorrow. I need to find a flight to Thunder Bay.

Porter Airlines has a flight out to Thunder Bay at 4:55pm from Toronto City Centre Airport. He booked it online, printed out his ticket. Raf was coming out the locker room as Spike was sprinting out of the office with his ticket, "What's up, man?"

"Can you take me to Toronto City Airport?" If Raf was floored by the question he didn't show it, he just said, "Sure, man. Now?"

"Yeah, now."

Raf and Spike drove to the Airport in Raf's mini car in complete silence. Spike looked grim, tensed and pale. The peak hour bumper-to-bumper traffic wasn't helping his mood; and the car being so small made them both feel claustrophobic. It was getting all too much for Raf so he put on jazz music in his CD player to lighten the atmosphere a bit. He was sure that the car's aura was aglow in cosmic blue, it was that bad. They got to the airport without having spoken one word to each other, that was, until Raf asked "Which airline?"

"Porter," was the short reply.

"Thanks buddy, I owe you one. I'll be back tomorrow in time for start of shift."

Spike entered the airport terminal and had less than 30 minutes to wait till boarding. He sat next to the window, watching the planes come and go. He should get something to eat or eat the plane's nasty plastic sandwiches but he couldn't find the energy to get off his butt.

The plane was half empty so he didn't have to share his space with anyone. His mind drifted back to Spring of '11. June 6, he went on a road trip to Thunder Bay; it turned out to be a journey of self-discovery and of healing. June 9, he was reconnected with Bridget. They landed at Thunder Bay Airport at 6:55pm, on schedule. He went to the rent-a-car desk and got himself "whatever is available." At 7:15 pm, he was out of the airport car park and driving towards "Bridget Country."

At 8:30 pm, he was at her door. He heard Liley's howling, he peered in the window and saw her excitedly jumping up and down, it brought a smile to his face. He didn't have to ring the doorbell, Bridget knew he had arrived. When it came to Spike, Liley's was the best doorbell. The Canadian Eskimo dog was beside herself, "Dad's home," he heard Bridget say from the other side. She opened the door and Liley jumped up to Spike's arms. Tail wagging and slobbering all over his shirt. He walked in with Liley still cradled in his arms but the minute he put her down he caught sight of Bridget. He blinked. He swallowed hard. He felt like he was hammered in his solar plexus.

Bridget recovered first, she reached for his hands, "Come, sit." They sat down at the kitchen bench. For a moment neither spoke. Spike grabbed a handful of his hair. He was visibly angry, "Why didn't you tell me? When did you know?" He glared at her, but was unable to hold back the tears.

"A month ago," she said calmly. How could she be so calm? Spike was angry and getting angrier by the minute. Liley sensed something was wrong and stayed well out of sight.

Bridget left Spike to collect himself and made tea for two.

"Tell me. Everything." Spike said as he stirred the teaspoon around and around his tea cup.

Bridget touched his fingers, ever so slightly. "It's advanced Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma." Spike drew a deep breath. "You want to know if I'm dying. Yeah, I am. But you didn't call about this, right? Until the minute when you walked in that door, you didn't know about any of this.

"Whatever your reason was for calling… that's what we need to talk about. We don't have much time." She said softly.

There were too many things all jumbled up in his head, he wasn't sure if he could get them all sorted out in the time he had. But there's one thing he needs to get straightened out, first!

"Did you break it up because…?" Bridget didn't let him finish, she knew what he meant. "No, you and I, no. Believe me, Mike, I only just found out. I was working full-time at the animal hospital until a month ago." That, at least, he knew was true.

"Mike, we ended it for all the right reasons. We both knew after what? Two months? That it wasn't gonna work. You're in Toronto, and I'm… was… contracted here at Thunder Bay for two more years. You and I, we were working crazy hours. You'd call, leave a message on my voicemail, I'd call back and leave a message in your voicemail. Bridget cupped his face, lifted it, she stared into his eyes, and probed into his soul, "We mutually agreed it couldn't work. How many times did you fall asleep skyping with me?"

A soft laugh escaped from him, true enough. One night, Bridget worried of accidental strangulation when he fell asleep with the headset cord looking dangerously looped around his neck that she phoned his mobile to wake him.

"I always wondered why you… we… keep running into each other. I'm not even sure what I'm asking…," Spike said helplessly. "I was convinced I've driven all the way up to Thunder Bay so I could be reunited with you."

"Have you ever thought that perhaps it was so we could both save Liley?" He just stared at her, the woman who was the bright spark of his childhood. They met when they were both 10. She was his puppy love and the woman he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with, and that was just 15 months ago, "Yeah, maybe."

Bridget got up to get something, a photo album. She opened it slowly. A walk down memory lane. The first photo was of the two of them, now slightly discoloured, in their school uniform. They were precocious kids, neither of them attended kindergarten and skipped grades along the way. Here was a photographic evidence of a couple of cute 10-year old on their first day of High School. They looked at each photographs and reminisced. They laughed and joked.

Bridget turned serious, "Mike, you and I, we're spiritual lovers." She closed her eyes, "I don't know if I can help you make sense of it, but I'll try. You and I, we're good for each other but we're not for each other. Lewis was right when he said I was good for you. We were that for one another. We bring out the best in each other. We're kindred-spirit but we are not...um... complimentary. We're too similar."

"I love you. Always loved you. But not enough to… willingly… leave everything behind to be with you. And it's the same in your case. We're two people whose lives always cross paths. Our lives intersect at certain junction, at significant points." Bridget intersected her fingers with his.

"But we... we... couldn't live in each other's shadow. It takes a special person to do that." Spike acknowledged her soliloquy with a nod and a look of understanding.

They were very quiet for a long time, then Bridget asked if had eaten, "No. Can I make myself something?"

"Help yourself." Bridget went to sit on the two-seater couch and tucked her skinny legs under her. Her long black hair was gone, replaced by a black beanie. Her cheeks were sunken but the glint in her eyes was still there. From a distance, he could see the light in her eyes like pearls in oyster shells. It's so unfair.

Spike made a bowl of pasta and ate quietly in the kitchen, leaving Bridget to her solitude. Liley sensed sadness had descended in the house. She padded slowly to where Bridget was, climbed up on the two-seater and laid her head next to Bridget who gently stroked her head. Spike couldn't help but weep for a special friend whose life had touched his in ways too far and too deep to measure. Theirs was a childhood love that had withstood distance, and time and space. Yet theirs was not meant to be forever.

By the time spike finished his pasta, Bridget had fallen into an exhausted sleep. He carried her and it frightened him, she weighed no more than 30 kilos. Liley probably weighs more.

He made himself comfortable on the floor, Liley laid down next to him. She could sense his sadness, his overwhelming melancholy. But in spite of the looming Greek tragedy, Spike succumbed to his own exhaustion and fell asleep.

It was the chirping of the birds that woke him up. He got up and made himself coffee. He went to shower off his frustration and sadness but the hot water could only remove the dirt and the grime. His aching heart still ached when he stepped off the shower. He came out wrapped in a towel and was surprised that Bridget had been awake. She smiled and teased him about being way too sexy in the morning. "You have clean clothes in the wardrobe." Remnants of their brief liaison in the summer of '11.

"We need to discuss Liley," Spike was tucking his shirt in and Bridget can't help but think how domestic it all seemed. "Yeah that," came the reply.

"And we need to talk about why you were calling." Spike's response was to pull her in for a gentle embrace. He kissed the top of her head and carried her to the hammock outside. It's now autumn of '12. The golden leaves were drifting down to the soft ground. It was very chilly so Spike went inside to get a quilted blanket and wrapped her in it. Cocooned her more like.

He went back inside and came out with a tray. Tea in proper tea cups. He laid down next to her in the hammock and Liley took her chance and laid on top of them, nearly squashing Bridget in the process. Spike lifted her off and gently placed her on his chest.

"Remind me again how Liley came to be in your custody," Bridget laughed. "cause she was too much for you to look after," was her short explanation. The truth was Spike was too soft. Canadian Eskimo dogs needed a firm hand. Liley needed a master, not a slave. He was too soft he couldn't get Liley to obey "stay" and was nearly run over when she followed him down the road. It just about gave him a heart attack.

After a week with Spike, she was bundled back to Bridget's care. It all got silly in the end because he wanted to be responsible for Liley's care and kept sending money to Bridget which she kept returning. "She's as much mine as yours, so quit it."

In the beginning, he travelled to Thunder Bay as often as he could, which was in truth, rare. He saw Liley online every day though. A long distance father-daughter relationship, and that's pathetically all that he could manage.

"You have to promise me, you'll be firm with her, ok?"

Spike was quiet, stroking Liley's fur. Bridget nudged him, "promise me."

"Promise."

They agreed that Bridget needed Liley more now than ever and decided that she would stay at Thunder Bay for the time being, until… they dare not say it.

"Next topic. Why were you calling?"

Spike stayed mum, it didn't seem appropriate to discuss the reason he was calling but Bridget persisted. "Let me guess?"

"Ok."

"You want to know if we were really through?"

"Well, yeah. I met someone … no, we shouldn't talk about this."

"Why not? Mike we were through. I want you to be happy. I want you to have someone in your life who's prepared to make the big gesture. You need someone big enough, tough enough to not be afraid of your shadow. You cast a big one." She paused to allow him to absorb this.

"You have to give yourself permission to be happy. I'm guessing you've known her for a long time."

"What made you say that?"

"Cause you're not the type to fall head over heels in love at first sight. You overthink everything that sometimes you gloss over the obvious." She laughed. Oh, that laughter. I will miss the sound of that laughter.

"What we had… have… is different from any other relationships you'll have now and in the future. Ours was a long shared memory; of childhood fun, of adolescent angst and intertwined paths. It's ours and no one can take that away. Going on... moving on... and wanting to be with someone is not being unfaithful to what we had. It's just different, you know."

They remained very still. She, cocooned in her blanket with his arms around her. He turned on his side so that his face was nuzzled on her shoulders. He wasn't sure who was comforting who. Does it matter? The world continued to spin around them. The birds were flying overheard, a couple sat on a branch just above them. It was so ironic. They both cried silent tears.

"Were you even planning to tell me?" Bridget stroked his hair. "Yeah, I was just waiting for the right time. But now, I realised there's no right time, just the right moment."

The right moment. Here in this beautiful, rich neck of the woods. Here where the sun's ray filtered through the branches of trees older than Canada itself.

Spike felt a nudge, Liley was trying to get up so he shifted his position to give her leverage, he saw the time, 10am. I have to go.

"Bridg, baby, I have to go but I can't leave you alone."

"Don't worry, Jeremy will be here soon."

"The guy who answered the phone?"

"He's my carer, for now. I will probably go to Vancouver when it's time... to be with my mom."

"I want to see you again."

"Bring her with you, I want to meet her."

Spike was at a loss for words, and when he found his voice he said, "She doesn't know it yet." Bridget laughed, "Typical." He laughed with her.

Spike got up, lifted her up. He put her down carefully on the divan. She held his hand, "Dance with me." He nodded. She must have picked the song ages ago, all she was waiting for was the right moment. It's a song that will now be forever indelibly inked in his heart, "The Carnival is over."

_Say goodbye, my own true lover,_

_As we sing our lover's song._

_How it breaks my heart to leave you;_

_Now the carnival is gone._

_High above, the dawn is waking,_

_And my tears are falling rain,_

_For the carnival is over;_

_We may never meet again._

_Like a drum my heart was beating,_

_And your kiss was sweet as wine._

_But the joys of love are fleeting_

_For Pierrot and Columbine._

_Now the harbour light is calling;_

_This will be our last goodbye._

_Though the carnival is over,_

_I will love you till I die._

_Like a drum my heart was beating,_

_And your kiss was sweet as wine._

_But the joys of love are fleeting_

_For Pierrot and Columbine._

_Now the harbour light is calling;_

_This will be our last goodbye._

_Though the carnival is over,_

_I will love you till I die._

_Though the carnival is over,_

_I will love you till I die_

Spike got back to Toronto in time for shift. Winnie was starting her shift, too. He smiled at her, she smiled back. He put his hands inside his pocket and wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Winnie, sensing how tense he was, turned away and wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole.


	5. Dating Dr Rob

_Reworked and edited to fit in with the new integrated version. This was originally titled Waiting but not Waiting. This chapter is about the humorous side of life. I hope this chapter resonates with you._

**Dating Dr Rob**

It's been two weeks since the unintended "coffee date". The awkwardness between them had eased a bit but not the confusion in Winnie's pretty little head.

According to her BFF, her problem was that she's trying to deny her feelings. "You can't do that, she said with a dainty flick of her wrist, "Just let it be." That's Stephanie. Straight talking and deadly accurate, that's when it's not her problem they're discussing.

"Yeah, you're right. By the way, Rob's asked me to be his date for Friday, I think I'll accept the invite." That's Winnie changing the subject.

"Good. About time you get off your pretty ass and go dating. God, Win, if I've got half the suitors you've got, I'd go out on date nights every night. Think about it, Win. That's free dinner every night. No cooking, no washing up, no buying groceries. " That's Steph being all mercenary and trying to be funny.

The two friends have been talking non-stop since yoga class started and so Guru was not impressed. "Ladies, if you're not in the mood to attend my yoga class, you're free to go." Win and Steph shut up very quickly. Anyway, it wasn't easy chatting when you're upside down.

Yoga class ended close to lunch break. Winnie got a call, she covered the phone with her hand and mouthed, "Rob" to Steph who flashed her a Cheshire Cat smile.

"Hey, you."

"Yeah, it's ok. Yeah, I'll go." She said while making grimacing faces to Steph.

"Formal? Semi?"

"Semi, ok. Um, I finish work at 7 on Friday, what time do we have to be there?"

"8:30? Um, I suppose that can work if you pick me up from HQ… 8ish – I'll be ready."

"Rob, sorry to end this call short, I'm with someone right now, can we talk later?"

"Sure, bye."

Steph was making faces at her the whole time she was on the call. Winnie jokingly chastised her, "I think your calling in life is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." Steph gave her a wide grin. "What will you wear?"

"Don't know yet. I don't have a huge wardrobe but I've got four sets of uniform," she laughed.

Steph, on the other hand, could open her own boutique shop if or when she decided to clear out her closet. "Let's go to my place, we're the same size, you might as well have your pick." Her BFF had been extraordinarily generous to her, the only daughter of a property developer, Steph never wanted for anything but attention. She couldn't have enough of it.

They arrived at a fashionable, trendy suburb. Steph's apartment had views of the Cityscape. The interior was amazing with its wall to wall double glazed windows. One of the bedrooms was converted into a walk-in closet.

Steph 's a fashionista with a capital F. Winnie nicknamed her fashionista capitalista. Winnie, on the other hand, was the girl next door from blue collar roots. Their socio-economic difference never got in the way of their friendship. No two people could be more different but what cemented their friendship was mutual respect and because neither of them were pretentious. With these two, you see what you get and you get what you see.

"LBD," Steph declared. And when she's in this mode, there's no stopping her. She went to the section of her closet where LBDs hang. Winnie was horrified to see some of the designs, she picked one up to survey what little piece of material there was, "This is not a dress, it's a hanky."

She picked up another one and said, "Where's the rest of it?"

The whole business of dressing and matching shoes to accessories was all too much for Winnie. "Steph, when do you have time to go work? This is like a full-time job." Winnie caught herself, "Ops." They both laughed. Fashion was Steph full-time job.

In the end, Winnie picked what she thought was the most modest from the whole rack of LBDs. The satin material clung to her like second skin and she was instantly uncomfortable. Its saving grace was it wasn't too short and it wasn't slowing too much cleavage but it showed her back.

The material at the back started at the top of her hips and the rest of it held together by four blacks spaghetti strands, spaced equally from her shoulder blades down to the back of her midsection. It looks so frighteningly fragile, she thought.

But she had to admit her back was her most elegant feature. Dance and yoga had a lot to do with the tone and definition of her back muscles.

"Please tell me this comes with a jacket?" she asked rather bemusedly.

"No, but it comes with a scarf. Fair enough?"

"Ok, whatever."

Then they had to decide on the pair of shoes. "This." It was a black pair of Jimmy Choo that costs more than what Winnie earned in a month. She loved it, except it was way too high. "How high are these heels?" she asked tentatively.

"Don't complain, just try it on." She had to admit again that she looked great in them. Steph swooned at her friend, "Stunning".

"Who's going to do your make-up?"

"Make-up?" Winnie was flabbergasted. "I didn't think of that! I've got to cancel, I can't do this. Eat-out date is one thing but attending a semi -formal affair? What was I thinking?"

Steph was determined to get her BFF out on a hot date, "You're not backing out of this, young lady. I'll be there at 7, on the dot. I'll fix you up. Don't worry."

"I can't do this."

"Sure you can."

**Fast Forward Friday 7 pm**

Steph arrived at SRU HQ and waltzed to Winnie's desk. Winnie made all the necessary introduction because of all the days they could all be in and accounted for, why today, she thought.

"Sorry, I love to chat you guys up but I've got to get Winnie ready for her date."

Winnie turned red, she just wanted to die. Oh no. She could feel Spike staring at her. Steph looked around and asked Jules and Leah for the "ladies". Jules pointed to hers and said, "I'll help you get started." As Winnie and Steph entered the "ladies," Jules looked back at the guys and made a face one especially dedicated to Spike; Leah raised an eyebrow and followed.

Raf and Sam turned to you know who, who in turn looked at the ceiling, his most favourite object in the world.

Half an hour later, a dapper looking, tuxedo-wearing gentleman arrived. He approached the desk, told Peter who's now on shift that he's come to pick up Winnie. Peter went to look for her but found all the guys instead. "Hey, there's a penguin outside looking for Winnie, do you know where she is?"

At the "penguin" description, the guys all came out to the lobby, including the Boss. Rob stood motionless, looking like a deer caught in the headlight surrounded by five SRU men in full uniform, all akimbo. Greg introduced himself and asked what he could do to help. Rob practically stammered out the answer, "I'm... ah...here for Winnie."

"I believe she's still getting ready, let me introduce you to Winnie's Team One."

"Ed Lane," Ed shook hands with Rob, sort of tightly. Not to break his fingers or anything but enough for Rob to get the drift," Don't mess with our girl."

"Sam," who offered his right hand while resting his left on his Glock making Rob very uneasy.

"Raf," they shook hands.

"Spike" simply smiled and nodded his acknowledgment. Team One's Geek in residence wrapped his arms around his chest. A defence mechanism to shield his rapidly thumping heart from everyone's view.

Five minutes after the introduction were made Jules stepped out of the "ladies" and announced that Winnie would be "out any minute now."

Winnie came out, everyone held their collective breath. Stunning would be an understatement. She was wearing muted make-up; except for the red lips, she looked natural. The LBD hugged her petite form, her nicely shaped legs looked long in her Jimmy Choo high heeled shoes. They didn't have enough time to straighten her hair so they left it in its natural frizzy style just pinned down in place by a silver hair-band.

Wrapped around her arms was the scarf. She was clearly embarrassed by the attention. She looked up and under her lashes that made Spike's heart melt.

After the initial shock passed, Rob said, "You ready?" and offered his arm. Winnie shyly hooked her arm around his and as they walked out they heard this deep baritone voice. "Rob."

Rob and Winnie turned around; it was Raf, "She needs to be home by midnight, Cinderella-time. Just so you know." They all chuckled.

Raf repeated, "I'm not kidding! Cinderella-time."

As soon as Rob and Winnie disappeared around the corner, Steph said, "Nice meeting you guys," she flipped her head to where Spike was standing and cheekily winked at him before she glided out of HQ.

The Bomb Tech felt all eyes on him, he scratched his head, and everyone said, "Idiot."

Leah, on the other hand, was more merciless. She bumped him with her shoulder and whispered in passing_, "No upside keeping it a secret."_

"I'm not," he said.

Leah Kearns groaned, gritted her teeth and said, "Tell her what you feel. Or you're gonna lose her."

_Lose her? _It never occurred to him that Winnie might not always be available.


	6. Flowers for Winnie

_Spoiler alert for Season 5, episode 4, "Eyes in."_

**Flowers for Winnie**

He blamed Constable Leah Kearns… and Stuart.

That day in question, Team One rolled out to save the day of a driver whose rig was hi-jacked during a pit stop. How did they know there was a hi-jacking? To cut the long story short, a little known hacker called Stuart fed a rogue video feed to SRU HQ. That's how.

Close to the end of the chase, Spike had to negotiate Stuart from killing himself. Desperate to save the woman he loved, he made an attempt to get her boyfriend, with strong connection to a crime lord, arrested. The attempt backfired. He couldn't live with himself, not with the shame of what he had done. And not with the knowledge he placed the life of the woman he loved in mortal danger. And even after Spike had assured him Becca was fine, "_She's safe, my Boss just told me_," he couldn't be placated.

Spike spoke to him from the heart, _"You took a chance today, you look out beyond your life and you imagined something better and you went for it. Know what, maybe it was foolish, maybe you over reached…"_

Stuart replied, "_You think_…" in utter self-loathing.

Spike countered with passionate reasoning, "_But the point is… it happens. My God, Stuart, it happens all the time when the heart is involved… we botch things up, that's how we're wired. But the thing is it can all be made better. All of it_."

"_You made some questionable choices today that will make you feel bad for a while but there was one choice you could have made that you will regret forever, you know what that is? Doing nothing. Doing nothing is easy, Stuart. To put up walls. To hide away. The hardest part is reaching out. You did that, you took that chance. Today is a beginning, it's not an end_."

The words were still ringing in his ears as they drive back to HQ. _Doing nothing is easy. _

So that day he took a chance, albeit given a slight push from behind by Constable Kearns earlier in the day. Well in fact, Leah had been on his case ages ago. And, that day he thought he over reached because she said… Winnie said… when he finally worked up the courage to ask her out…

"I don't date cops." She said with a hint of embarrassment. **Ouch!**

Next, he wanted to know if this was just her way of turning down a guy easy. She replied that it was a rule she has set for herself because she needed balance in her life_. Balance? Whatever that means?_

He wondered aloud if that rule was one that would go out the window if the perfect guy comes along. Her reply sort of tipped him sideways, "No. No. The perfect guy just came along." His sharp brain picked up the verbal cue. _Me, I'm the perfect guy!_ He gave her a tight smile and simply said, "Ok."

Winnie instantly felt a pang of regret as Spike walked away from her desk. She kicked herself mentally. She's been in like with him for so long that she has had time to fantasized about how life would be being with him, in love with him, in like with him, working with him. She's thought of the number of ways he could get hurt on the job and hearing about it first hand as it happened. She didn't trust herself not to dissolve in tears and lose all professionalism.

Spike walked away but he didn't walk away sad or hurt. He walked away challenged. He wasn't an ordinary cop by any measure. Not an ordinary man for that matter_. I'll just have to show her_, he thought with a determined smile.

The next day at shift, he casually walked to Winnie's desk and greeted her as per usual to show he wasn't slighted by her "rejection." Quote, unquote. He stared at her beautiful brown eyes, assessed the pretty face with perfect white teeth to determine where she was going with this rule.

"Hey, Winnie," he said. She glanced up at him looking stressed. He could tell it was one of those days. Busy. Madly busy. Far too many hot calls. She's been in since 5am when Sidney called to say he wasn't feeling well, "Could you cover for the remainder of my shift?"

"No problem, I'll be there soon."

She was present and on board 15 minutes later and happily sent Sidney home. Now that she's at the despatcher's desk she wasn't sure if she could pull another 12-hour shift but the overtime pay would be massive so she consoled herself with the thought that she could use the extra money.

From 9am, however, Maximus must have unleashed hell because it was one hot call after another. Mid-day, members of Team One started to trickle in. Spike being first to arrive, "Hey win."

Winnie looked up at the source of the voice she always liked to hear, "Hey," she said. Spike sensed she was not her usual self. "Busy, huh?"

"Super," she replied. Spike walked to the locker room with a singular thought, _Winnie needs cheering up. What can I do? Ah flowers. Ladies love flowers. I know she likes orchids._

As he changed from civvy into his uniform his thought remained on Winnie. _But orchids need a lot of tender loving care, and she works long hours. She won't be able to look after it. Might even upset her if it dies in her apartment._

After a couple of minutes thinking about it, Spike sparked up, "Brilliant," he said to himself. He went away for a bit. When he came back round to her desk, Winnie promptly said in exasperation on his approach, "Not you, too. I'm tired of people asking me if there's anything wrong. There's nothing wrong ok. I'm just tired."

"No, that's not why I'm here," he said beaming. "Did you get the flowers I sent you?"

Winnie's eyebrow went up, "No. No flowers. No deliveries."

"It's in your inbox.

"In my inbox?"

"Yeah. I know you like orchids. But you work long hours and may not have the time to look after it so I sent it to your inbox instead."

Winnie eyed Spike suspiciously, opened her email, and there it was an attachment: an arrangement of beautiful Canadian orchids.

Spike came around to her side, "Here, it can be your screen saver so you can see it everyday." He looked at her and beamed proudly but….. Winnie?

Winnie felt a bit of her resistance came off. She closed her eyes and thought_, If he keeps this up, I'm in serious trouble._


	7. Drowning

**pa·thos** noun

_Definition of PATHOS_

_1: an element in experience or in artistic representation evoking pity or compassion_

_2: an emotion of sympathetic pity_

_Yoh-Lin Tee, CSIS Senior Analyst was first introduced in the story "Weapons of Mass Destruction". Also, please read "Sealed, Never to be Opened" to make sense of Spike's CSIS connection. It's a short one, it will take less than a minute to read._

_It would be necessary to read "Apartment 7" to enjoy Spike's quirky apartment. If you haven't read it already, please do, it will only take two minutes of your time._

**Drowning**

Spike practically crawled home at the end of one extremely hard going day. He was dogged tired, and all he wanted was a good night sleep. He reached his apartment, and followed the same old routine. First, check mailbox. Residents in the apartment building had gotten used to seeing Spike read his unwanted mails. One elderly man even commented he should "just toss them out," pointing to the rubbish bin, "unless you're too hard up you can't afford to buy newspapers."

The computer expert just acknowledged all sticky beaks with a smile. No one in the building knew this unassuming man was a serving police officer with the City's Top Police unit; and sure as hell didn't know that he was a serving Consultant with the country's intelligence agency.

Spooks tended to leave messages in the most obscure places and in the weirdest possible way. And, there it was, a message from Yoh-Lin Tee, who at this very moment maybe out of country and needed assistance alleviating his boredom.

He didn't envy Yoh-Lin, international man of mystery. It's only in Hollywood that Jason Bourne existed. Most spooks were engaged in endless waiting games 90% of the time; only 10% of the time would they be required to use their martial arts training and weaponry skills and if they were not dead in two seconds; or being exfiltrated out.

There was a message was from Yoh-Lin, a challenge to solve a puzzle. Spike smiled, _This is going to be fun._

He entered his keycode and let himself in his apartment, the lights automatically turned on and simultaneously the music played, Robbie Williams' Angels. He went to the hidden wall panel and turned off the music manually. He wasn't in the mood. A lot of the songs in his Ipod were love songs and that's the last thing he wanted to listen to right now.

The espresso machine went to work, the smell of coffee invigorated him somewhat. His living room had three two-seat couches arranged in a U shape. He sat down in the middle couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, he was really exhausted. The television screen came down, turned itself on. He took out the remote control from under his seat and surf the channel and concluded there was nothing worthwhile to watch.

He got up after two minutes to have his coffee and reheated some pasta. He took his bowl of pasta to his bedroom. The second he stepped inside, the lights and the computer system turned on while the lights and the television in the living room turned off. He created a wireless, motion sensitive apartment. Green and energy efficient.

He was greeted by a lethargic Liley on his computer screen. She was laying on the floor of Bridget's rustic cabin, not moving a muscle. Her eyes were hidden beneath her paws. Oh darling. He dialled a number, Jeremy answered, "How bad is it?"

"It's not good. Liley's depressed. You've got to do something for her soon. Soon is good. Bridg sleeping now. If you call tomorrow you might be able to speak to her. To be honest, Mike she can't be alone much longer."

Spike knew who he meant but he had to ask anyway, "Bridg or Liley?"

Jeremy sensed the gloom in Spike's voice, "Bridg. Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma…. What can I say man?"

"Is the speaker on? Can Liley hear me?"

"Yeah," was the brief reply but the Canadian Eskimo dog was deliberately not looking up at the camera. She was ignoring him. "I love you, Liley," he reached out to touch the dog's form on his computer screen. His heart broke.

He talked to Jeremy for a bit more about Bridget's on-going care.

Next, he split the computer screen to check up on Leslie McCoy. He made a promise to her father, his first Training Officer and who was like a father to him that he would look after her. Spike was not one to give empty promises. Tired as he was, he logged on to Facebook to check on Leslie's entries and the friends who were following her.

He initially wanted a camera in her apartment but she put her foot down, "No way. No, I will friend you on FB but that's it."

"I'll be following you on Twitter and tumblr."

"Ok. You will still come see me at work?"

"Of course, you'd have to erect a demilitarized zone in front of your coffee shop before you don't see me there once a week."

He thanked his lucky star that she worked in a coffee shop so he could visit her without having to make special arrangements. As far as everyone knew, he was just a loyal coffee drinking customer. The waitresses had all secretly fallen in love with him, the guy with the dimples and nice manners.

He thanked his lucky star that he had the best IP tracking software from CSIS. When he didn't like someone "friending" Leslie he discreetly investigated. He had made two anonymous reports to the RCMP about two suspected rapists in the two years he's been keeping an eye on her, his little sister. Those two incidences scared him. There's far too many perverts out there in the big, bad world.

That done, he watched Liley again, she's clearly forlorn and traumatised. I've got to do something ASAP. He didn't touch his pasta. He's lost his appetite. But he couldn't think clearly either.

He thought back, how did I miss it? When he's viewing Liley, Bridget would often come up to the camera to monkey around. Waving. Smiling. And then, he hadn't seen her at all. He thought she's at work or away on a conference. Why didn't he pick up on it? Why? You stupid, stupid bastard.

He wouldn't be Michaelangelo Scarlatti, Catholic raised altar boy, if he wasn't feeling guilty. Heck, if the world ended today, he'd blame himself for it; or at least attribute part of it to what he may or may not have done.

He was too exhausted to even care for himself. I'm drowning.

First, he thought it was just his imagination, but, no, it's not. His mobile phone's ringing, he checked his time piece, midnight. Who the hell would be calling at this time? He was instantly alarmed and adrenaline rushed to his brain. No one calls at midnight unless there's an emergency.

He went to the kitchen where he left his phone, it was Natalie. He audibly groaned. She is such a high need child.

"Natalie, is everything ok?"

"Yeah but I can't sleep. I'm having flashbacks of David and Alvin." _Two years on and she's still having flashbacks. _

"Nat, honestly, you need to see a therapist. There's only so much I can do."

The conversation went on for an hour, an hour he could barely spare to keep himself sane. The call only ended when he sort of lost it at one point and was "short" with Natalie, who cried which made him feel bad. He promised to see her "one day" for coffee.

Spike rested his head on the kitchen bench. His thought briefly touched on Winnie. It brought a smile on his face but not enough to produce craters on his cheeks.

He dragged himself to bed and didn't bother to remove his clothes. He laid down for a bit, whispered, "Che Dio mi aiuti". His last thought before exhaustion took him away to snoozeland was God, kill me now.


	8. Greg Parker, Boss Father

**Greg Parker: Boss Father**

Spike came in at 1pm for their 3pm start. They generally worked together for eight to ten hours depending on overtime. Tech genius didn't say "hi" to anyone like usual. He seemed distracted. It didn't escape the notice of vigilant Sargent Greg Parker who had become attuned to his Tech's behaviour. Years before, he went through the motion of being happy-go-lucky that none of his team mates knew what was going on at home. He's _that_ good at play acting, Sgt Parker had cottoned on to it. Parker called Spike who immediately thought_, Oh, oh_.

"It's not start of shift, technically, for two hours. Let's grab coffee."

Parker didn't want to embarrass Spike. Calling him for a chat in the briefing room would be like calling him to the Principal's Office and that's the last thing he wanted. If he was going to get Scarlatti to talk, it would have to be on neutral grounds and away from everyone's prying eyes.

"Winnie, Spike and I will be out for a couple of hours. If anyone looks for either of us, take a message, don't call unless it a life and death situation," Winnie nodded. She briefly looked into each other's eyes. He looked sad, she thought. She offered him a smile which he returned. It melted her.

Parker drove to a small café, the peak-hour crowd had thinned and they were left pretty much alone in the far corner that offered the most privacy. They ordered their favourite coffee and dessert, Cheesecake for the Boss and biscotti for him.

"You look shit," the Boss didn't mince any words. He's not here to molly-coddle. He's a grown man and can handle critical assessment.

Spike stared at Greg, "Boss, just tired. Too many things on my plate." They sat and waited for the coffee to come, the younger man was obviously not going to volunteer any information, so Parker threw the first salvo.

"Anything to do with that sudden trip to nowhere land?" Scarlatti knew when he was cornered, better get it over with. "Did Raf say anything to you?"

"No, only that he drove you to the airport. He was worried because you looked stressed out and pale. Other than that, he doesn't know anything. It's a gut feel. Something's wrong, son?"

On hearing 'son', he looked up. It never failed to take his breath away. He's very grateful that someone cared for him. Spike was like a dam that burst its banks, before he knew it he was spilling his guts out to Greg. If the tears embarrassed his Boss, he didn't show it. Their waitress also knew not to come close because the dessert didn't materialised.

"I'll organise a week's leave so you can look after Bridget and Liley. You're due for another one anyway, it's been well over a year since your last holiday." When Spike appeared to protest, Greg held his palm up, "talk to the hand."

"But it's not just Bridget and Liley, isn't it?"

Spike mentioned Natalie's late night phone call, the clinginess and the fear that he's not handling the situation right. Greg was concerned. Now, this is a problem. The trauma from her abduction by David, a convicted drug dealer, had developed into a form of PTSD. But this, Greg could see, was being compounded by her infatuation with the Geek with combat skills.

"I have a theory," Greg said after he's taken a sip of his coffee. This brought on a smile. "I have not taken you to be a theory's man, Boss." It gladdened Greg's heart to see the smile, he continued. "Natalie always got what she wanted. What Natalie wants, Natalie gets. Whatever. Whoever. Emphasis on who." Greg paused to allow Spike to follow his line of thinking.

"As far as I can gather from Sam and other sources, no one has ever refused Natalie. The lady is charm personified. Then one First Class Constable Michaelangelo Scarlatti said 'No'. You, my son, have become a challenge to her. She's met her match, someone who resisted her charm."

Spike exhaled. "I never thought of that, Boss."

"Of course you didn't." Greg cherubic face broke into a smile.

"I think if you had been one of those who said 'yes' …. she probably would have tired of you by now … and moved on."

Spike's eyes widened, Greg countered quickly, "NO! I'm not suggesting that you go have a relationship with her. I'm merely saying that IF you had said 'yes' back then she would likely have moved on by now. It's a theory … so don't go there."

"What do I do, Boss?" The way he asked the question floored Greg. A grown man with a 180 IQ, bordering on genius was at a lost. "What do I do?"

"My concern is that she's becoming co-dependent on you and that's very dangerous. You have to be firm with her. You're a good guy, you take on responsibilities that don't belong to you. In this case, you really should stay out of it."

"I think I'm firm with her, Boss."

"Well, then you have to be firmer. She's not getting it. Have you discussed any of these with Sam?"

"No, it would be unfair to her. Sam doesn't think the best of her at the best of times." Greg nodded.

"Do you know if she's going to therapy?"

"Last night she told me she's been seeing someone. It's been two years… "

"I can't tell you what to do. I can only guide you. Co-dependency can be dealt with but it has to be dealt with firmly. She's emotionally invested in you, so tread carefully. Just remember, you're not the person to help her recovery. By allowing yourself to be in this situation, you are NOT helping." Near genius nodded.

They changed the subject to Leslie McCoy. Spike briefly mentioned his big brother role. Greg shook his head lightly and thought how this young man was still standing on his feet with so many responsibilities. The mood lightened enough for Greg to bring up Winnie, "What's this I've been hearing from the grapevine?" Spike played coy.

"Come on, Spike. How long do you think before the whole SRU knows about it?"

"She doesn't date cops, Boss."

Parker stared at him speechless for a moment, "I hope you're not giving up that easy…"

"I know what you mean, Boss. I like her, a lot."

"But?"

"But I don't know where to begin?" He phrased it like a question.

"We have to re-test your IQ," said the Sarge. Spike broke into an embarrassed grin.

"Let me put the cards on the table. I don't know if it'll help but… well, I hope you take it for what it is. Winnie is a great girl. She'd be a good fit for you. She's grounded, mature, has a good disposition."

"You don't have to sell her to me, Boss." Spike interrupted.

"Ok, what I'm saying is, if you and Winnie decide to give it a go, SRU will not get in your way."

"Ok."

"That's all you've got to say."

They could have bantered all day but the beepers vibrated. End of discussion. But Spike has regained a bit of his happy disposition. His equilibrium was sorting itself out, and he's feeling emotionally more upright.

When they reached HQ, Spike went straight to Winnie. Greg pretended not to notice.


	9. Teddy Bear for Winnie

**Teddy Bear for Winnie**

Everyday that they worked together, Winnie was becoming acutely aware how seriously in trouble she was. She was treading in unknown territory. She's never met anyone like Michaelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti. But then, who has?

It would be really easy to keep saying "No" to someone annoying. Or someone presumptuous. Or someone infantile. Or someone aggressive. But Spike was none of the above. He's at a point in his life where he was comfortable in his own skin; and played his card by being himself.

One blustery fall day, Team One attended to a hot call involving an attempted kidnapping that turned death-defying when the kidnapper tossed the 18-month toddler out the window in an effort to escape apprehension. Spike was there at the right spot to catch the baby. But catching a living being wasn't like catching a ball, one couldn't simply do it any which way.

To those who witnessed it, it all looked so easy. But there wasn't anything simple about that selfless act. Spike had to make a snap decision, calculating in his head impact, angle of fall and weight. He estimated her to weigh around 28 pounds (roughly 14 kilos). He knew as he rushed in to catch her that it was going to either be his arm or catch her the wrong way, which meant she could break her neck. Or even cause injury to both of them if he miscalculated.

Winnie remembered the moment clearly. It's indelibly inked in her mind that she could relive it frame by frame. She had her hand in her mouth when Officer Ed Lane climbed out on the second story ledge to cover Sgt Parker as he negotiated with the kidnapper. The Boss was calm, "Give it up, Scott. Please...there's no way out."

The kidnapper though knew they weren't going to shoot him, not when he's clearly unarmed. And not if he dropped the baby on her head. He shouted back at them, "Well, it's your choice then, isn't it? It's her or me," and just like that he let go of the baby.

Spike was nearest the spot where the toddler was going to meet the hard ground, he knew Officers Jules Callaghan and Leah Kearns would instinctively rushed in to catch her and then there would be just a pile of bodies and a dead child. They were all wired that way – selfless. They heard him scream at the top of his lungs in an effort to alert the others to get out of the way. **"I've got her. I've got her."**

Officer Sam Braddock was on stag at the roof – alert. His blue eyes focused on the kidnapper as he clumsily scaled the building up to the roof. Guess what, Sam thought intently, _I'm gonna give you the good news, you bastard._

Jules and Leah watched from below, "Stay here" said Jules. "I'll cover the west side." Then they all heard Ed say, "Fast is good... Boss, cover the east side, I'll go North. Sam's on the roof."

Ten minutes later, Scott reached the roof and came face-to-face with Sam Braddock's left hook. He dropped on his knees hard. Sam pushed him flat on his belly, placed a knee on the small of his back and cuffed him. The blonde warrior turned off his Comm link for less than two seconds long enough to give Scott, the kidnapper, a sharp thump on the back of the head. Team One heard the sound of the radio being turned back on. They smiled knowingly when Sam delivered the good news, "Subject secure."

Hours later, longer than usual, Team One returned to HQ. Winnie greeted them as the filed in, "Good work today Team." Last to walk in was Sgt Parker. No Spike? She desperately wanted to know where Spike was but didn't trust herself not to hold her emotions in check. Jules and Leah spied her from the briefing room. "Hey, Jules. We should tell her, she looks worried."

Callaghan winked at Leah, "Let's let her sweat some more." They laughed wickedly at their own mean strategy but how else, they reckoned, would the pretty young Miss Winnie Camden acknowledge to herself what she truly felt for Spike. There's no two ways about it. Miss Camden would have to admit to it to herself - sooner or later.

Winnie's agonising wait ended 15 minutes later when Sgt Greg Parker approached her desk, "Winnie, call the Hospital. Find out if they're done checking Spike over. Thanks." Then the penny dropped; when Spike got on the ambulance, it wasn't just to escort the baby.

She called a special number dedicated for police and other emergency services personnel. The voice on the other line asked if she was the next of kin, she answered truthfully. "No. His listed next of kin is our Boss, Sgt Greg Parker."

"I'm Dr Enmore. Officer Scarlatti's attending orthopaedic surgeon, can I speak with Sgt Parker, please." Surgeon? What surgeon?

"Hold on, please." She felt herself enter worry territory. Breathe in, breathe out, she told herself before patching the call through to Greg, "Boss, Dr Enmore's on the line, he's Spike's attending Orthopaedic Surgeon. He said he needs to speak to you." Parker was alarmed, Orthopaedic Surgeon? What the hell?

"Put the call through," he said in his usual even tone. The Medical Specialist and the Boss spoke for a good while. As soon as the discussion ended, he gathered his Team and briefed them on their teammates' condition. "Spike's gonna need urgent surgery to repair a fracture in his right elbow. He fell badly on it when he caught the baby, who by the way is perfectly fine." They clapped and hooted at the news. "She's stayin' overnight and will be discharged tomorrow.

About Spike, the Boss continued, "We didn't know how badly he was hurt... he turned off his Comm Link so we didn't hear him writhe in pain. He must have known there was potential for injury because the paramedic reported he was biting down on a pen when he climbed into the ambulance."

Sam who was seated beside the door peeped out to see Winnie dab on her eyes. Not knowing what happened to Spike was killing her but it was a choice she could justify to herself. _ It's just too awful._ It's the right decision not to get involved with Spike. I mean look at this, how much more awful can it get!?

She reminded herself, for the umpteenth time that day, that she needed balance in her life. Herself having a police officer for a boyfriend would be like a Nurse and having a doctor boyfriend. It'll be nothing but diseases and hospital wait list and insurance. Or being a legal assistant and marrying a lawyer. It'll be nothing but lawsuits. She liked nothing of the sort, and she most definitely could do without the worrying. Not that she wasn't worrying now.

Eventually, she admitted to herself that she's definitely, absolutely, freakingly worried but without the upside of being next of kin so she could at least know what the hell was going on. _Ugh!_ At any rate, she found out the whole truth when they invited her along to visit Spike after shift. "Tomorrow. He'll be in surgery today and would be out of it," informed Greg Parker.

They went to see him as a group the next day. Jules and Leah hugged him which meant, she supposed, she had to also. Not that she didn't want to. But it felt a little awkward. When it was her turn, he grinned at her - a silly little grin. Leaning down on him she worried he would pick up on how fast her heart was beating. But if he did, he didn't let on. She was suddenly envious of Jules and Leah's easy going, care-free relationship with him. They had that same thing, then he had to ruin it by asking her out. She was annoyed with him but she couldn't fault him for it either. Ugh, she groaned internally.

They bantered and laughed merrily causing Spike to wince in pain every now and then. She stared at the cast that encased his right arm and thought how uncomfortable it must be. Spike watched her intently for a second. She caught his eyes, she instinctively looked down embarrassed at being caught staring. Her eyes went under and up to again catch a glimpse of Spike which the Italian found very sexy indeed.

Three days later, Spike was discharged and placed on desk duties which meant bumping into each other a lot. It's not a big deal, she said to herself, repeatedly. Yet she couldn't help but ask him point-blank, in a sweet way of course, "So Spike, when do you think they'll remove your cast?'

"It's that bad, huh. You can't wait to get rid of me," he teased.

"No, no, no." She seemed to be saying this to him a lot. "No, I was just curious."

The Italian beamed at her and said, "Well, I'm goin' to the hospital for a check up next week, first thing Monday. That's your birthday, right?"

"Yeah, how do...?" His eyebrows went up and she laughed, "You have your ways... of course" she said with a slight tilt of her pretty head.

Come Monday Spike was waiting to be seen at Hospital when he chanced upon a little girl clutching a soft toy. That's it, an idea formed in his crowded brain. He Googled for a specialist toy store and found what he was looking for in seconds. He wasn't expected at work today so he could take all the time he needed just to make it so. It had to be perfect.

Winnie was near at the end of her shift when he walked in at HQ, he passed her a bag, "Happy birthday," he said. His smiling face was decorated with two deep craters. "Thanks," she said, "Can I open it now?"

"Up to you."

She sensed everyone was watching by the wayside so she said, "I'll open it when I get home." Spike went round to her side of the desk and gave her an innocent peck on the cheek. Well, she preferred to think it's all innocent.

As soon as she reached her apartment, she hurriedly opened the bag. She was momentarily stunned, then she let out a delighted giggle. It was a teddy bear in cop's uniform with a bandaged right arm. A card was pinned to it with the words, "Hug by proxy." She stood in the middle of her living room, and felt her resolve to not date a cop melt like a glacier in global warming condition. She was keenly aware that at the rate it's melting it won't be long before she's swamped.


	10. Ringtone for Winnie

**Ringtone for Winnie**

The cast has been removed, but he still needed a sling to stop him aggravating his injury and was restricted to minimal duties. Ten days on and the whole contingent at SRU HQ was starting to suffer right along with Spike Scarlatti. When the Techie was happy everyone's happy; but when he's miserable everyone just want to tear their hair out. Ed Lane made a comment to the Team that Spike "makes for an ideal shooting target. He's an absolute pain in the ass; constantly moaning about being bored".

"Look who's talking?" replied Jules. "But let's face it… we're all like that when we're bored."

"Speak for yourself," said Sam which promptly earned a mocked kick in the shin.

Ed palmed the problem off the Greg, "What's the solution here Boss?"

Parker shrugged, "I'll speak to him." He went in search of Spike and found him in the Gym, "Scarlatti, Briefing Room One."

The Techie had been running on the treadmill for a good hour. He grabbed a towel, patted himself dry and ambled after Parker. He sat on the table on one thigh, "Hey Boss, what's up?"

The Boss pointed to a chair across from him with his chin, "Why don't you sit down?"

"Nah, I'm very sweaty," the Techie replied and Parker was amused. "Spike, how ya doin?"

"Good."

The Boss tilted the chair back, "So what did the specialist tell you last time?"

"Not much really. He asked me if I'm still in pain, etc, etc. I told him I'm managing it. He said I'm not allowed any heavy lifting with the right arm for at least six weeks. I've started physical therapy, Boss. Motion exercises." Greg nodded and waited for Spike to continue.

"Full recovery from an olecranon fracture requires lots of work. I exercise my right arm multiple times a day, every day. Dr Enmore said recovering strength often take longer than expected; sometimes, 6 months or more. But he said I'm the best patient he's ever had the pleasure of treating."

The Boss grinned, "I bet he says that to everyone he sees." Spike broke into a smile, "I think so, too."

"So he's not fooling anyone… this Dr Enmore." Parker then paused and scrutinised him closely. Spike thought, _Oh, oh_.

"Why don't you stay home and rest? You can't even drive with that arm being held together by a plate and screws. Rest it, and wait till it heals properly."

"Stay home to do what? Watch DVDs 24/7? I'm gonna go crazy if I stay home." Greg Parker gave him a tight smile, wagged a finger towards him and gave him a stern command. "You wanna be here, fine! But quit moaning. That's an order."

He got up to put his files away when his eyes drifted in the direction of the despatcher's desk, he had an inspired thought, "Go help Winnie," he said, "Tell her it's an order."

The Techie suddenly came to life, "Good." He was up and out of the briefing room before Parker could say another word, the Boss sighed and silently prayed that he wouldn't annoy the pretty despatcher to death.

Spike went to shower off his sweaty self. With one arm barely able to move, he dressed up in easy civvy clothes, and slipped his feet into a pair of loafers. Tying laces was still out of the question. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw his handsome reflection smile back at him. Good to go.

He walked towards the despatcher's desk, grabbed a chair on the way, wheeled it next to Winnie who was utterly surprised, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Boss said I should help you," he replied with a killer smile. He plopped himself down on the chair with enthusiasm, adjusted it to his frame and said, "Ok, what do you want me to do?"

Winnie looked at him with a quizzical expression and said, "Seriously?" He nodded energetically. The despatcher got up and said, "Wait here…" she placed her headset on his head and marched off to see the Boss.

She knocked at the door and waited to be acknowledged. "Come in." Parker glanced up from his paper work, "Winnie, it's only temporary. Just to get him out of my hair." They both laughed, the pretty despatcher recovered with a quick witted response, "So now you've dumped him on me so I could lose mine, too?"

The Boss, Negotiator and sometimes flatterer said, "I know you can handle him. You'll be right."

She sighed audibly. "I expect a raise, Boss. Child-minding is not part of my job description. But I'll do it for you." Greg Parker laughed out loud at the cheeky repartee.

As Winnie walked back to her desk she intuited that Spike had done something he wasn't supposed to do. She asked him half accusingly, "Did you do anything while I was away?"

Spike gave her the puppy dog look, one that implied he was hurt by the unjustifiable accusation, "Nope, I've been a good boy."

"I wish I can believe that."

Minutes later came a "hot Call". Out of habit, Spike jumped up to join the Team. Ed turned to him and said, "Where do you think you're going with that?" indicating his street attire. "Look at you. Polo shirt, denim pants, and loafers? How far do you think you can go with those?"

"But I'm ok to be in the Command Truck," he protested. He turned to Sam, "Help me with my vest, quick!"

The Boss sternly told him to go back to Winnie, "There's nothing you can do in the Command Truck you can't do here, Spike."

The Techie responded off the cuff, "Except here I don't have your back, Boss."

Leah tapped him on the shoulder, and turned him around to face her. "We've got it covered, Spike. We've got his back."

And, Jules said, "Besides… before there was Scarlatti, there was Callaghan."

He looked at his Team and said, "Ok. Be careful guys."

Spike sat next to Winnie the whole time and as it turned out they worked very well together. They both knew when to get out of each other's way and when to take the driver's seat.

The incident was resolved without a shot being fired. The subjects were secured and the Team got back in one piece.

"Good job, Officer Scarlatti," Winnie said at the end of shift.

He smiled at her and said, "Good job, Miss Camden. See ya tomorrow."

Winnie reached her apartment to find a note from her flatmate, "Out clubbing… see you in the morning." She was glad her flatmate was out. It meant peace and quiet. She stretched out on the couch, and hugged Officer Teddy Scarlatti. He's soft and cuddly. But the peace was broken by a song… Joe Cocker?

_You are so beautiful to me_

_You are so beautiful to me_

_Can't you see_

_You're everything I hoped for_

_You're everything I need_

_You are so beautiful to me_

She listened intently. Not moving a muscle, hugging the teddy bear for dear life. She glanced up at the CD player, the dial was on the off position. She stood up to follow the sound but just as suddenly it stopped. Ok, that's really spooky.

She sat back down. A minute later, there it was again, Joe Cocker singing "You are so Beautiful." The sound… it was coming out of her purse. She tipped out the contents. It was her mobile phone. She picked it up and there was Spike's bedimpled face on the screen.

She answered it tentatively, "Hello?"

"Hey," he said. "I just wanna say how much I enjoyed working with you today." She was speechless. "_Ah, tongue tied… that can only be good."_

She broke out of the trance,_ I've gotta put my foot down_, so she roused on him half-heartedly, "Don't fiddle with my phone again."

He laughed and said, "What's wrong with that? Now, at least, you know it's me calling." He hanged up and she was left holding her phone close to her heart. Spike's subtle strategy must have worked because before she knew it she was playing the song on youtube and day-dreaming of Spike.


	11. Lady Bugs for Winnie

_Author's Note: I don't own shares with Nabisco Food Corp or Nutella. They just fitted the story._

**Lady Bugs for Winnie**

Team One was scheduled to go off to the firing range and to the yard for training exercises. Ed Lane came around to her desk to check if there were any messages for them before taking his Team out. "No messages," she said.

"Ok, you know where to find us…"

She just smiled. The Team filed passed her on the way out in gears and in a buoyant mood. Spike trailed at the end looking glum. She felt for him. He wanted to be with them but the arm hasn't completely healed. "How long more?" she asked.

Spike guessed she meant his arm. He looked down on it and said, "Maybe two more months before I get clearance." He went round to sit next to her which was, honestly, nice. She's gotten used to the smell of his after shave and occasionally touching knees with him. He was such a nice fellow to be with. A laugh and a half sort of guy. Cheeky. Bright. And yes, good looking.

But the perfect guy also had his share of quirks and annoying habits.

Since Team One was out on the yard and Team four was out on City patrol, it was an unusually quiet day for SRU. It wasn't long before Spike was showing signs of boredom. He fidgeted and worse still started tapping on the desk. A truly aggravating habit if she's ever seen one.

She watched him closely. It was an unconscious thing, not malicious at all. He was not deliberately trying to annoy her.

She held both his hands to keep them still, looked him in the eyes and said, "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Tapping on the desk," then she slowly released his hands. It happened several times before she cottoned on that holding his hands seems to encourage the behaviour more and more. Her suspicion was proved right when he'd beamed up at her just now and said, "That's nice of you to hold my hands."

Her eyebrows went up. It was certainly a lose-lose situation for her. She realised she's stuck with him for the time being but it didn't mean she had to suffer in silence beside him either. Then she had an inspired thought.

"Spike, you know how some of the files are still in beta and they're taking so much space? Can you transfer them to the hard drive?"

He smiled and said, "Yeah, of course and I suppose it'll make all our jobs easier, too." Her eyes automatically moved to his hands which were about to start tapping the desk again. He caught her reaction and he smiled, "Ok, no tapping. I was just thinking…."

Minutes later he was up on his feet and made a move towards the archive room but not before pinching her cheeks lightly and saying, "Good idea, clever Miss." She rolled her eyes and smiled back at him.

Greg Parker came out of the office and was surprised to see Winnie alone in her cubicle, "You haven't fired him, have you?" The cherubic faced Boss teased. "No, I asked if he could transfer all the files still in Beta into the super computer's hard drive. He went to the archive room and I think he's gonna do it."

Parker was pleased, "Good idea."

Transferring files from Beta to a computer hard drive was child's play. Anyone with rudimentary computer skills could do it but the Police Department had other priorities. It preferred to put its personnel resources on other more pressing matters. So since he's free and on minimal duties, it might as well be him.

With the amount of files that needed to be transferred, it would be repetitive and tedious job; but at the end of it he'd have something to show for all his hard work. The one thing remotely cerebral about the whole business was formulating the best way to search for the information once they're all stored.

Spike quarantined himself in the archive room programming different ways the information could be accessed. He made sure that a whole range of parameters could be used. _By last name. By first name. By date of birth. By maiden name. By date of incident. By previous criminal records_.

With everyone away and Spike sequestered in another room Winnie regrettably missed his company. She was fretting although she refused to admit it to herself. He spent hours in the archive room and when he came out it was only to requisition her for stuff. "Win, do you have coloured pens and a big notepad?"

"Sure, here take these."

At one point, he disappeared into the belly of the archive room for four hours straight without a break. This worried her. She called him on the intercom linked to the archive room, "Spike?"

"Yeah," he replied, sounding busy and immersed in what he was working on.

"You ok?"

There was a momentary pause before he answered, "Why shouldn't I be?" She detected a light teasing chuckle in his voice which made her cringe inwardly.

"I was just wondering if you might actually be sleeping in there instead of working."

"Reeeally? Then you should have said, 'Wakey, wakey'."

"Arrgh," she said.

Spike came out for air around 3pm, "I'm hungry, Winnie. Or you hungry?"

"I had a sandwich earlier," she said. Then she realised the poor guy hasn't eaten. "Would you like something to eat, I have a left-over sandwich… if you like."

He smiled, "I don't refuse anything edible." She gave it to him. He unwrapped it, bit down on the sandwich and gobbled it hungrily. After he swallowed the last bite, he asked, "Is the Boss around?"

"Nope, he's with the Team outside, training exercises."

He nodded, "Be right back."

Spike was gone for half an hour. When he returned he disappeared to the staff canteen and stayed there for some time. He'd gone to the grocery store to get more food into him. A left-over sandwich didn't sustain a grown man. But in the process of doing so he also purchased a box of Ritz biscuit, a small tub of cream cheese, a small jar of Nutella spread, a punnet of cherry tomatoes, some olives and some alfalfa sprouts.

Winnie was taking down notes when Spike appeared in front of her with a food tray. "Lady bugs for you," he said.

She received the tray with both hands. "Oh, wow." Colourful and delightful surprise!

He smeared cream cheese on half a dozen Ritz biscuits. Quartered three cherry tomatoes and placed two on each one to look like lady bug wings. He pitted six olives and placed them nicely on each biscuits to give them the appearance of a lady bug's head. He then put a couple of alfalfa sprouts inside the hollowed olive to give it an antenna. Lastly, he dotted the wings with nutella using a toothpick. Result! Six lady bug biscuits.

He left her standing there with the most alluring look of surprise. He turned round and went back inside the belly of the archive room. _I miss you_, she said to herself.


	12. A Test of Nerve

_Author's Note: Those who are familiar with my style know I like to enhance my love stories with suspense and mystery; and, my suspense and mystery with a love story. Story telling is like cooking, mixing it up a bit spices the flavour. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

**A Test of Nerve**

Project Hard Drive, as Spike came to christen what he was working on, was coming along quite nicely. In a week, he has transferred nearly 20% of the existing files on Beta to the super computer's hard drive. By his calculation, every file would have been converted by the time he was back in cool pants; especially since he managed to secure Dean Parker and Clark Lane's services for free. The two teenagers came after school and supplied youthful energy and verve to HQ. He wasn't sure though how much they were getting done judging by the amount of time they spent mucking around.

Even with the extra help though, the Project was taking a lot of Spike's time and attention, which were both a blessing and a curse for Winnie. She loved his presence yet was threatened by it. But she hated his absence because it made her heart grow fonder. _What the hell do I do?_ It was so frustrating.

After briefing this morning Spike walked passed her on the way to the archive room, waved but didn't stop to banter. She was glad that it was a busy morning or she'd have plenty of time to wrestle with herself thinking about why he didn't stop to chat. And a couple of hours later, a hot call.

"Hot call! Hot call." Sgt Parker walked briskly to her, "Winnie," he didn't need to complete the sentence. She automatically put the phone on speaker.

"This is Jonas Cole with State of the Art security. We have a security breach at one of the residences we are protecting. Listen…" They heard clicking noises, then three voices: one female and two males.

A male voice; overwrought, clearly in a heightened emotional state. "I'm gonna kill you…"

This was following by a terrifying scream, she was pleading with him. "God, no. JACKSON…. No… what have you done?" At the same time another male's voice: gasping and rasping in agony. Then, they heard what sounded like a frenzied, uncontrolled attack. Whatever state of mind Jackson was in, he had lost all control. He was in a blinding rage.

They didn't need to hear anymore. "Feed me on the fly Jonas. Winnie, patch him through." Team One geared up in three minutes and practically flew out the door.

On the drive over to the residence, Jonas told them the home owners were Elizabeth and Peter Philips. "Who's Jackson?"

Jonas replied, "I don't know… wait…"

Then they found out the connection. Jonas who still had ears inside the house explained, "Jackson is the children's biological father. He's accusing Peter of molesting his girls. The mother's denying it, defending her husband. It seems Peter is still alive… barely. I can hear rasping…."

In a life-threatening situation, people have three main reactions: freeze, run or fight. They got the picture. The woman had not run off to save herself. She, for whatever reason, was still in there nervously and desperately trying to reason with the enraged man and failing.

Ed said, "That's not good."

"Not good at all," echoed Sam Braddock.

Team One arrived at the scene within seven minutes of the call, "Jonas… I need ears inside that house… find me a way."

"I can do that easily, but I'd lose you…."

"That's fine… you've done enough to help… thanks Jonas."

"Winnie, find the girls and send unis around to protect them. They're to stay with the girls' in the Principal's Office until further notice." He had to keep the girls secure in case their Dad had plans to abduct them. He was still barricaded inside their residence but there was no telling where this could lead to.

"On it, Boss…" It didn't take long for her to find them. The girls were Sahara and Salina Hope and they attended St Clements School. She did one better and specifically asked for two female Constables to attend to the matter at hand. It was just common sense since the kids' may need a protective arm around them.

Normally it would have been Spike inside the Command Truck but today the equally sharp Constable Jules Callaghan took control of the sophisticated, state of the art security features of the house. "Boss, we have eyes…"

Winnie expelled a deep breath, she liked hearing, "We've got eyes." It meant the Team was on top of things. Team One has control of the situation. She called EMS. _Hopefully Jackson whatever his beef was with Peter Philips would release him into the care of the paramedics._

She stayed focused on the call. At any time, Sgt Parker may ask her to do something for him but she couldn't help glancing at the archive room's door_. He's been in there for over two hours. _She decided to buzzed him via the intercom, "Hey Spike?" There was no answer. _Odd_, she thought. _Could it be that he's had a heart attack in there? Has he slipped and cracked his head?_ She mentally slapped herself for thinking the worse and worrying.

But not hearing a reply back from Spike really spooked her. She forced herself to stay focused on the on-going saga at the Philips' residence. It's now been 20 minutes since Mr Philips was stabbed repeatedly. She heard Jules say that the male victim would bleed to death if they don't get Jackson to release him for medical care ASAP. Luckily, she said, no major artery appeared to have been severed but nevertheless they haven't got all day.

There were so many voices in her ears. There was Ed giving tactical instructions. There was Sam running and then climbing up to the second floor of the house. There was Leah preparing for an explosive entry through the windows. There was Sgt Parker negotiating with Jackson. There was Jules updating everyone of what she's seeing.

Then, suddenly, like an explosion of geyser it escalated. Jules' voice filled her Comm Link, "Boss, he's going for her now. She's running towards the main door, Leah… you might want to go round there and meet her." Instantly, Leah dropped everything and raced to the front of the house. "Jules, how close is she to the door?"

"About 10 feet. He's gonna be on top of her soon." Leah kicked the door open, and fired a shot at Jackson as Elizabeth fell flat on her face. He was on top of her now with a knife poised to enter her back. The shot! It rang loudly in their ears. It seemed everything froze, until they heard Leah audibly breathe out and said, "Subject secure." The bullet had hit Jackson in the shoulder. "He'll live", she said for everyone's benefit.

She heard everyone congratulate Leah, "Good shot, Constable Kearns."

She checked the time. It has flown by. It's now been three hours since Spike went into the archive room. With the situation under control, she decided it was time to check on him again. "Spike, hey, do you need anything?" No answer. _Something's not right. _**BUT** she couldn't leave her post. That would be tantamount to dereliction of duties. As she continued to fret, she became convinced she's not a girlfriend or a wife of a police officer type. _No, I'm not._ She thought of Sophie Lane, _That woman deserves a medal_. **THEN**_, What the heck!_ _I'll check up on him_.

She was about to go to the archive room to check on Spike when she heard Sgt Parker mention her name, "Winnie, call RCMP crime scene unit. And get the unis to take the girls to their Mom. "

"On it, Boss…." she sat back down and tried to ignore the nagging feeling to check on Spike.

Team One prepared to leave the crime scene to RCMP while Winnie busied herself to tie up all the loose ends. She was still speaking to children's services when Team One hauled their sore asses back to HQ. She gave them a smiling welcome and especially gave Leah a hug, "Remind me to not ever be on your bad side, ok?" she said.

"You?" replied Leah, "Never."

After she's made all the calls, she collated the voice tapes for the Boss so he can write up his report. It's now been over four hours and she still hasn't heard from Spike. She tried again. This time she attempted bribery. "Spike, would you like some chocolate?" No answer.

He was never one to refuse chocolates, she thought. By this time she was feeling alarmed but she didn't want to say anything in case there was nothing to it. The hot call done, she decided to go in. _Just in case._

She retrieved an empty water bottle from her drawer, refilled it with water from the water cooler. If they ask what she was doing and where she was going she'd just tell them she's bringing Spike a bottle of water. She tried to act natural.

She opened the door, walked in. No one seemed to be in. "Spike..." she called out softly.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he answered from behind, "Yeah?"

"Don't EVER do that to me again", she said sharply. He rolled his eyes and headed back to his work desk. She followed. She put the water bottle on the table, "I thought you might need something to drink," she said softly.

He turned around, crossed his arms on his chest and said, "So…"

"So… what…" she asked.

"Why have you been checking on me?"

"I wasn't."

"Yes. You. Were. Three times." He raised three fingers. "Spike, are you ok?" He mimicked her.

She felt blood rushed to her face. _This is embarrassing_. "'Cause I thought something might have happened to you. Maybe you've had a heart attack or something."

"Ah, you thought something's happened to me but you kept your nerve, didn't you? You kept yourself focused on that call and acted professional every inch of the way. Very good, Miss Camden." He sat down, opened the bottle and drank it greedily and thirstily.

She gaped at him. She couldn't believe it. _What audacity this man has?_ _ S_he heard him thanked her for the water._ So… was it a test? Was it a test to prove I have nerves of steel? Was it his way of showing me I've got it in me to… be… his lover?_

Spike turned back to look at her, "Anything else you wanna tell me, Miss Camden."

She turned away and said, "Nope… stay here was long as you want." She left him and wondered how long more she could keep this charade up! _Oh God, help me._

She didn't see Spike. He was smiling.


	13. Taken

_What would life be in the SRU if there's no action? Life wouldn't be worth living. So here's one, IEDs and all!_

**Taken**

Six weeks after Spike's surgery, he was back on active duty with _**some**_ restrictions! So long as he didn't do any heavy lifting, it was fine for him to get back in cool pants. When Sam heard the doctor's order, he cheekily said, "So, what's different? He never did any heavy lifting around here in the first place. All he ever did was practice playing the piano."

Raf added, "Just about the heaviest thing he ever carried 'round here is his Remy, which he hasn't fired away, useless sod!"

To add insult to injury, Ed Lane butted in with a smirk, "Hey, easy on the guy… remember we need him to man the Command Truck which, I don't know, has to be driven for him. Such a baby." Spike laughed along with everyone, he just rolled with it. He'll get him own back and he'd be mercilessly brutal about it.

Suddenly, he became aware Constable Kearns wasn't around, "Where's Leah?"

"Yeah, where's Leah?" seconded Raf.

The Boss, who was walking towards them, replied, "Away to attend to some family problems. I hear, you guys have been giving Spike a hard time." They all put on their poker face, "Who us?" said Jules.

"Noooo," they all said.

Spike said in a child-like manner they've all grown accustomed to, "Boss, they're lying. Send them to the Principal's Office." He got a head thump from Sam.

Team One didn't have to wait long for the first hot call of their shift. At around 4pm, a disturbance was reported involving an armed man, allegedly with a "semi-automatic." There were varying reports from witnesses. A couple said there was one armed man. A third witness said he was certain there were two. Uniforms were thrown into a spin when another witness fronted up to say there were definitely three, two armed men and a woman.

All they could agree on was that there's a gun in play; that's sufficient for SRU to get involved. The main concern for everyone was whether the witnesses were reliable. The location was a known haven for drug addicts. The warehouses had been abandoned a while back when the developers ran out of funds due to the global financial crisis.

The three abandoned warehouses were barricaded but minimal security arrangement meant druggies used this space with impunity to sell narcotics, inject, snort, smoke, you name it they had done it all here, with all sorts of weeds, pills and powder. It would be a huge undertaking because the subjects, however many they were, had to be flushed out; and that's not going to be easy considering the massive area that had to be cleared. In the end it was decided to make this a joint effort between Teams One and Three. Ed and Donna, Team Leaders of T1 and 3, worked well together. There's chemistry between them; and, like-mindedness both in tactics and values. It made for easy cooperation.

Donna led her team towards Ed's, "Right, Ed, how'd you wanna play this?"

Lane turned towards the confident voice, "Look who's here but the ever smiling Donna," he has a very relaxed attitude towards the first female Sargent in the SRU. When Donna first applied for the position, he recognized her talent immediately, his one recommendation to Greg three years ago was, "_Boss, no one can touch her. No one. She is better than any of us_."

After some serious discussion, they tactically decided to split the Teams into six pairs: Alpha, Bravo and Charlie One and Two. The search areas were split into six quadrants. Alpha One and Two were assigned to clear the first warehouse; the Bravos, the second; and Charlies, the third. Both Team Leaders estimated it would take "two hours" to clear the warehouses. Ed said, "Max, if there's no major drama".

Clearing hostile areas took a lot of time. Their actions had to be deliberate and measured. They had to be careful about trip wires, booby traps, and hidden bandits. Not to mention, explosive entries when required. Uniforms were put on stand-by to secure the perimeters and to cordon off areas that had been cleared.

Greg and Spike stayed in the truck as usual. He asked spike to liaise with Guns and Gangs to find out if any known gang-affiliated groups operated their base from this specific location. The call fell into the capable hands of Wordy, ex SRU T1. They were delighted to hear each other's voices. After a brief amiable chat, they were all business. Wordy's information was very helpful. The warehouses were known to be "East European controlled" specifically Croatian gang.

According to limited intelligence, this gang was led by someone referred to simply as "Maximo." Apart from this tidbit of info, there was not much else. Wordy was very forthcoming, "He's been very elusive; no existing photo has ever been taken of him. It's hard for us to know for sure if Maximo is an urban myth; or a real identity." In plain English, drugs law enforcement had not been able to successfully penetrate the gang.

The only other intel Wordy had was that this Croatian gang was well-armed and well resourced. No doubt, their armory was funded from narcotics trade. Winnie heard it all – word for word. She felt very selfish when she thought, though briefly, that at least Spike didn't have to come face to face with Maximo and his gang. _The truck is always a good place to be_, she thought.

Two hours later, Alpha One, Raf and Sam, reported in. They had cleared their quadrant, no unknown armed men or woman was found. But the place was littered with used syringes and needles. Sam joked that this really was a job for the Hazmat Team. "It's deadly in there."

"Not only that, Boss, we found bits and pieces of materials that could have been used to make an IED," it was the deep baritone voice of Raf, SRU T1's rookie and musician extraordinaire. On hearing this, Spike's ears perked up, he instructed the uniforms to collect said bits and pieces in case an IED was indeed made. Residual materials could be used to match it should one ever come to light. Uniforms entered to cordon off the area. Raf and Sam returned to Command Post, established just 200 meters from the Truck.

The second pair to report back was Bravo Two, Jules and Ed, "All clear". Alpha Two and Charlie One returned to Command Post, "All clear". Something wasn't right. Ed and Donna said as much. Deep down, Greg was convinced Bravo One and Charlie Two would both return with nothing to report.

"Something's not right, Donna. Ed? What's your take on this?" Greg was asking the question even as he was still getting off the truck to join the Teams at the Command Post. That was all the gang was waiting for. While everyone was busy comparing information, two of Maximo's henchmen climbed on the truck. One started to drive off with it; while the other aimed a semi-automatic pistol at Spike.

The Tech's first thought were of the people he'd be leaving behind in case the gun goes off. _This is not good. Not good at all._ He thought of his mom, Bridget, Liley, Leslie, his Team and Winnie. _I have so much to live for,_ with that thought he calmly asked the gangster to "please point the gun somewhere else." Sensing they need him alive, he said, "Your Boss will not appreciate it if you kill me by accident." _This gift is a curse_, referring to his skills in computing and hacking.

It was Sam who first saw the Truck being driven away. He shouted, "Spike!" in his head-set. Everyone turned to where the Truck was. All hell broke loose. Never mind the CAN$2M hardware in that vehicle, it's the human that worked it that's irreplaceable; and bloody hell, they were not going to lose him.

Winnie didn't know what to think at first. _Am I hearing this correctly? Someone has driven off with the Truck with Spike in it. This is not happening. He can't possibly be in harm's way. No freaking way!_

"Boss, what can I do?" she asked. Her knees felt very weak, it made her glad she was seated when it all went pear-shaped. "Call Commander Holleran, he needs to know. Now, Winnie." Commander Holleran didn't care to know what members of the SRU did for a living, he's very non-controlling this way, but when their lives were on the line he wanted to be the first to know.

The fact that materials were found that could have been used to make an IED, or IEDs for that matter, and an Eastern European gang was involved, a terrorist cell couldn't be discounted which meant CSIS would have to be brought into the picture. "Winnie, get Dir. Blake Hinton."

"Copy that." She sounded very professional but inside her stomach had knotted. Winnie remembered to breathe like Spike showed her. _Now's not the time to be having a panic attack._

Teams One and Three scrambled to give chase. Ed and Jules were in the first SUV on the Truck's trail. They hit an IED, the explosion was deafening. The van rolled over four times before it landed on its roof. These vehicles were bullet-proofed and made of reinforced steel; thankfully, or the occupants would certainly be dead. Their chance of survival due to its construction was ten- fold if they were wearing seat-belts which thankfully they all did all the time.

Sam and Raf were on the second SUV, following closely. Thanks to his fast reflex, Sam was able to step on the brake in time, HARD. The armoured vehicle screeched to a halt; tires smoking. The ex JTF2 guy was out of the SUV before it stopped completely. His first thoughts were of Jules. Raf jumped out at nearly the same time and headed straight to the driver's side of the upturned vehicle to check on Ed. "EMS, get me EMS," it was Greg, shouting.

Winnie complied, "EMS on the way. And, Boss, I'm tracking the Truck's GPS." Good girl, thought Greg. Donna and the rest of Team Three continued on with the chase.

"Boss," although they were of the same rank, Donna had so much respect for Greg that she still addressed him Boss. "We will get Spike back, alive and well." The fact that Donna sounded so confident gave Winnie hope that Spike would be returned safe and whole. "Lord, please," she prayed.

Then the unthinkable happened, another IED exploded!


	14. Heroes

_The action continues…._

**Heroes**

The explosion was deafening, a thunderous noise no one could be prepared for. The ground jolted. They were disoriented by the blast and the debris, shrapnel flew in all direction. Again, it was the SUVs that saved their lives as it took direct hits from the projectiles.

Greg's initial thought was it took Donna and her team. When the dust settled, they surveyed their immediate area and saw the carnage that had been sown. It was the EMS ambulance. It was literally torn to shreds and the paramedics, genuine heroes and life savers were barely alive. Greg silently thanked their good fortune that the IEDs didn't have toxic chemicals in them, or they wouldn't still be standing now five minutes after the blast.

It slowly dawned on Greg how Donna and her team escaped unscathed from the IEDs, they took the grassy path to speed off after Spike. All vehicles presently disabled or stranded had been on the road, _friggin camouflaged roadside IEDs._

Sam braced himself against the SUV, his arms against it and looked down in fatigue, he thought he was free from this insanity when he returned home from the war zone. _There're arseholes everywhere_. He brought his focus back to Jules, the love of his life. The alternating TL of T1 didn't know how much more danger he'd want to see Jules put herself in, _We need to rethink our situation._

When he recovered from his initial shock, Greg's reaction was immediate, "Winnie, we need helis. Medivac choppers. Road rigged with IEDs. I repeat roads rigged with IEDs."

"Copy that." Winnie learned from the best at her job, "Boss, I've alerted RCMP's EOD bomb squad. They're on their way to you."

"Good thinking, Winnie."

"They said for everyone to stay where they are and don't move unless absolutely necessary."

"Do you have ETA of choppers?"

"You have priority, Boss." She switched channel, came back to Greg, "15, Sarge."

Sam and Raf hurriedly and efficiently cleared an area on the grassy patch for triage. Ed has dislocated a shoulder that would affect his shooting arm for some time. He would have to be stood down and it's pissing the hell out of him. He's in agony and angry. "The sonababitches snatched Spike from right under my nose," he hissed. He was taking it personally. He's affronted and to say that T1's TL was infuriated would be saying it mildly.

"It's not your fault, Ed. We all sensed something was up, we couldn't have predicted this would happen," it was Greg trying to calm his TL and no doubt himself.

Jules was unconscious. Jules, the Darling of T1. Greg looked down at her horizontal form and went ballistic at the upturned tire of the SUV. "She's likely suffering severe concussion. She has to be airlifted to hospital immediately." Sam, ex Special Forces, used his medic skills to make a preliminary assessment on Jules' condition.

The EMS guys were in worse shape than Ed and Jules. EMS ambulance weren't built for a war zone. Raf peered into his binoculars. The driver was still alive but bleeding; he won't be alive for long if I don't do something soon, "Boss, I need to attend to the driver."

"Negative."

"He needs immediate medical attention, he could die right in front of us," the rookie said insistently.

Greg exhaled turned to face Raf, he thought it's times like this when he hated his job. "You don't think I know that? The Medivac chopper will be here in less than 5. RCMP's EOD personnel are en-route. If you go out there and you step on an IED, God knows there will more carnage here than there ever was in Kandahar."

"The Boss is right," said Sam resignedly.

It was the swirling dust that signalled to them medivac choppers had arrived. Two specially built helicopters equipped with the best money can buy. Not only that, black clad, heavily vested RCMP EOD personnel were being dislodged onto the grassy patch; on their backs, high tech mechanical sniffers and bomb diffusing kits. Driving out here was out of the question. It was getting dark and the job of clearing the road would be painstaking; with three EMS personnel in danger of expiring due to blood loss, further delays would be certain death for these men.

Medical emergency workers gave Ed first aid, steadfastly refused to be taken to the hospital. Greg put his foot down and threatened him with insubordination. Jules was prepped for transport. EOD personnel cleared a path for the paramedics to reach their colleagues.

The first chopper flew off as soon as Jules was prepped; with Ed, Sam, Raf and Greg in tow. The other chopper would airlift the paramedics, getting them airborne was taking time as their injuries were far more life-threatening. Sadly, an amputation had to be performed on the driver, the news distraught Raf.

As soon as Ed and Jules were checked in, the trio commandeered a police cruiser to take them back to HQ. Their vehicles were totalled and they had to re-group. Meantime, Donna maintained communication with T1 throughout the whole IED saga. So far they haven't lost sight of the Command Truck, meaning Spike was still within their grasp.

Winnie's shift ended over an hour ago. "Boss, I'm finished for today. Peter's here. I'm going to the hospital. Sarge, I hope you don't mind I've contacted Sophie. I didn't want her to see it in the news. Is that ok?" Greg smiled to himself and assured her it was ok. She continued, "If there is anything I can do, you just need to ask."

Greg thanked her and as an afterthought added, "It's gonna be ok."

"Thank you," replied the pretty despatcher, in her heart she's desperately trying to believe it.

Commander Holleran and Dir. Blake Hinton immediately applied a full media black-out on the news. It's bad enough that a cop had been kidnapped but if news got out that this same cop was also an EOD specialist and computer tech, it could end Spike's career. There was nothing more useless than a compromised identity.

Canada, like all first world countries, maintained a list of people; chief among them EOD specialists, snipers, Special Forces and scientists whose identities couldn't be disclosed at any cost. The only names and faces that appeared on newspapers and television were beat cops who assisted in deliveries of babies' roadside; or ex specialists or ex SF or those who no longer worked in the field, and the Bosses.

The media black-out handled. Now it was time to scramble the analysts and the assets. Yoh-Lin Tee was ordered back Canada-side from wherever in the world he was. His expertise was required, no questions asked. Yoh-Lin was on-board a special flight organised via CSIS contacts with the CIA.

Donna and her Team were following the Command Truck, but at one point, it disappeared from their sights. "Where is it?" hollered Donna . "We can't have lost it. It's the size of a baby elephant." She said in frustration.

"I've got it," it was Tom from the second vehicle. The Truck came out of an underground carpark, the chase begun again in earnest. It's 7pm, the peak-hour traffic was still thick but not gridlocked. A rolling stop was determined to be the best solution to avoid collateral damage. "Far too many cars on the freeway, we need to contain this. Fast is good," Donna's voice came in through the head-set firm, steady and in control.

Greg, Sam, Raf and the rest of SRU listened with bated breath.

"Come out with the hands on your head," they heard her say.

"Hands where we can see them"

"SRU, put your weapons down."

They heard all the standard commands and it all seemed too easy. They looked at one another, _Something's not right._ Call it gut feel, call it experience, call it pessimism, but this certainly isn't your ordinary textbook take-down.

They heard SRU T3 open the door of the Command Truck, then, **"Shit, shit, shit."**

James, T3 sniper, jumped off, "Boss, it's not our Truck. It's a fake. It's a decoy. We've lost Spike"

"Bloody hell," Donna lost her trademark cool. "Boss?" she said faintly, "I'm so sorry."

"We heard, not your fault Donna. You and your team did the best you could."

A deathly silence descended on HQ, "We will have to see how this plays out," Sarge said to no one in particular. He hadn't felt this defeated, not since they lost Lou, and he didn't want to ever feel like this again. EVER.


	15. SRU Geeks United Justice League

_Geeks United was first introduced in the story "Weapons of Mass Destruction." It's not necessary to read that story to enjoy this chapter. However, if you feel inclined to read it first, I have no doubt you would enjoy this chapter even more._

_Briefly, I'd like to introduce you to the members of Geeks United. They are: Binary, she developed the software for Canada's airport security. Andrew who made logistics seemed easy at the Ports Authority. Paul, information monitoring guru and Luca, road traffic specialist. And of course, Head Geek himself, Spike Scarlatti, hacker and Bomb Tech for SRU T1._

_**Head Geek is in peril, can they save him?**_

**SRU + Geeks United = Justice League**

The Command Truck disappeared into the belly of the underground car park. Spike did his best to be alert for ambient noises that could give him a clue where he's been taken. But there was nothing. The GPS of SRU's mobile nerve centre had been disabled, that much he knew – for sure.

He was clueless about the kidnappers' agenda, but whatever it was he would make sure the wrath of Thor would fall upon them. They snatched the wrong geek. This was not the first time Scarlatti was forcibly taken for the purpose of committing a criminal act. The first involved breaking into the City's evidence depot to steal 20 kgs of uncut heroine. It was traumatic both for him and his friend, Natalie Braddock.

And, then there was, of course, the MacGyver adventure of Geeks United. The memory brought on a smile: Five geeks and one professor VS three armed mercenaries. The geeks won that round, resoundingly, using cunning, skills and guts. _We got out of that, why not this one?_

"Well, well, who have we here?" The owner of the voice looks Eastern European. _Could this be Maximo? _ "If I had known it would be this easy, I'd have taken you sooner?"

"I'm good, thank you." The Super Geek said not without sarcasm.

"Hey, don't be a smart ass."

"Who are you and what do you want from me?" The gangster laughed at his audacity. "Since you'd be a decaying carcass in two days, you might as well know who's got you. Maximo is the name," he leered. "I don't need a last name." _Arrogant bastard!_

Spike watched him carefully, taking in every detail. How he talked, walked, sat, pose. He reminded himself this subject had no mug shot in existence. It gave him additional motivation to stay alert if only to be able to give a full description of this monster to a police sketch artist. Hold that thought he said to himself.

"Can we get on with it? I've got better things to do."

Maximo laughed, "You sure got better things to do… like call your funeral director! You've got a date with death."

"Bring it here," Mr Gangster called out. A lackey came in with a stool, placed it in front of Spike. "Get up, move your butt, on the stool. NOW."

The Bomb Tech groaned inwardly, he recognised the attachment at the bottom of the stool. **Pressure pad bomb.** The kind of stool where once he gets up, he's done. He had two clear choices, a bullet to the head now or a bomb on his ass later. _Great._

He still didn't understand why they kidnapped him in this manner, why the charade? They could have taken me off the street, would have been easier and less problematic. Had they abducted him on his day off, SRU wouldn't have started a search for 48 hours, long enough for him to decay in a ditch somewhere. _What's the play here?_

"Move or your friends at SRU will vacuum your skull fragments from this Truck." Spike moved. The second he sat down on the stool, he felt a pointy trigger on his butt. _This is going to be very uncomfortable._

"Don't play games with me. You have 12 hours to hack in to the Ports Authority system and get our shipping containers out of the Port bypassing inspection." Maximo tossed him a list - it numbered about 30 at a glance, could be more. "You've got to be kidding me?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"With what do you expect me to ha...?"

Maximo grabbed Spike's necked with his thick fingers and twisted it so Super Geek's face was nose to nose with the computer screen. "With this! Don't be a smart ass. I know what this Truck can do. And I also happen to know this has a built-in spoofer so no one can locate where you are." _So, this was the play. They didn't just need me, they wanted my toy._

"Get on with it, your 12 hours starts now. Dingo!" he hollered, again. Spike's ears were starting to ring. The same lackey came up the Truck, "Yes, boss."

"Make sure this smart ass does what he's told. If this isn't done in 12 hours, I will feed you to the pigs, understand?"

"Yes, boss. Don't worry, it'll be done." Maximo, the head goon, left but not before slapping Spike on the head. It really hurt but it also motivated Super Geek to feed him to his own pigs.

Spike turned to the computer screen, his brain working out an escape plan. Dingo looked like he wouldn't know a browser if hit bit him on the nose. But he needed to be alone to be able to put his plan in play. "Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"You must think I'm an idiot! You want me to go so you can escape, ass hole."

Spike smirked, "I don't think you're an idiot. I think you're a moron. I'm sitting on a pressure pad bomb, how do you propose I escape? Ah, maybe I should make a grab for you and put in my place, how about that?"

Dingo paused. Spike continued, "If you want to live longer, I suggest you leave me in my truck because if I scratch my bum I might blow both of us to never, never land." _Well, that's a thought!_

"I'll be outside. So if you scratch your itch, you can go to hell on your own." Toothless Dingo left him alone. Well, the tide was turning in Spike's favour.

About six months ago, five geeks were hand-picked to test a cybertool, at least that was what they were told. To make a long story short, mercenaries tried to abduct them from the secure location where they were meant to do the testing. It was by sheer intelligence that they got out alive from their terrifying ordeal.

Before they went their separate ways, the geeks agreed on a failsafe system because they knew kidnapping was a very real possibility. Their hacking talents were too tempting to criminal elements. It was decided that two distress codes, sent to at least one of them, should be enough to activate **Geeks United.**

Alone in the Truck, Spike disabled the spoofer so he could be pinged by SIGNIT (signals intelligence), _thank God for ECHELON_. He worked fast. First, he sent Binary, Paul, Andrew and Luca the distress codes. _I know they'll act on it. I trust them_.

He sent an email to SRU. The message was simple. "Alive, unharmed. Captive in an unknown location, likely in the city, could be an old warehouse, could be a car park." Excitement quickly spread at the SRU. They had no idea how he was able to send it but that's not important, right now all that mattered was he's alive.

In the meantime, four Geeks presented themselves at the CSIS front desk, invoking national security and insisting on meeting with Dir. Hinton no less. Fingerprint verification identified them as assets and promptly escorted to the CRIB.

"What brought you here?" asked the bewildered Director of Intelligence; as far as he was aware the lid was shut tightly on this incidence. Binary answered, "A distress code from Spike. We're here to help." She turned on her Ipad and showed Dir. Hinton the email: 62249837 and 5878423 532483.

"What does that even mean?"

"It's the alphanumeric equivalent of MacGyver and Justice League," Paul explained.

Andrew followed up with more details, "MacGyver means geek in need of assistance. Justice League means gather at the Communication, Reconnaissance and Information Bullpen (CRIB). So here we are." The bureaucrats and the technocrats oh'd and ah'd.

Luca asked, "Can we please take control of the system? Spike needs us."

Dir. Hinton didn't waste any time. "Give them control they all have high level clearance." Geeks United – one for all and all for one.

Twelve hours, that was more than enough time to wreak havoc on the Croatian gang landscape. Spike was determined to inflict maximum damage to Maximo's operations in Canada and world-wide; and as collateral damage, to inflict pain on his associates, too.

He read the list. Shipments were from Singapore, USA, France, Germany, UK, Australia, New Zealand. He had an idea. A brilliant idea.

At SRU, Greg passed on the good news to Ed, who in turn passed it on to Sam, Jules, Winnie and Sophie. It was a relief of major proportion, especially for Winnie. Greg also called Donna, who was overjoyed at the news. She in turn messaged her Team.

RCMP EOD Personnel were still cleaning up at the site, gathering and bagging evidence, and dismantling IEDs. There were five undetonated bombs. It was alarming how orchestrated this was, they said. But the method of snatching Spike was still unclear to them. Why the elaborate step up? They could have just taken the Techie during his morning jog? That would become clear to them in the end.

"Boss," Peter announced, "you're needed at CSIS, at the CRIB." Greg had no team to speak of at the moment, they were either missing, indisposed or attending to loved ones. Only Raf remained at HQ, "Sarge, I'll drive you."

"Go home, rest."

"You're not resting, why should I? Let me help, Sarge. I won't be able to relax anyway."

Greg put his hands on the young man's shoulders, "You're an asset to this Team. I'm proud of you. Come."

Greg and Raf were escorted to the CRIB and surprise, surprise, the Geeks were in play. They knew them from an earlier rescue operation, which in the end, was not required. Binary gave Greg and Raf a hug, "Spike would want you guys to be in the loop. We'll try to explain what's happening and what we're doing. But sometimes…" she made a face.

"Don't worry. You don't need to explain because if you do, you'll have to explain the explanation. We're just not gifted with geek speak." Greg said happily and left them alone to fiddle with their keyboards.

Yoh-Lin tapped Raf on the shoulder, "Hey, how are you, mate?"

"Mate? Did you say mate? Buddy, where have you been hiding?"

"Above your pay grade." Yoh-Lin guffawed. He shook hands with Greg, "Nothing to do with me this time. I brought him back in one piece last time."

"You? You brought him back?' said Greg in jest.

There wasn't much for SRU skills set here but that's not point. They wanted to be in the loop and there's nowhere better than at the CRIB.

Back in the hospital, Winnie had a heart-to-heart with Sophie. "How do you cope with Ed being hurt?" Sophie eyed the young woman with understanding. "I cope by believing in my husband; and in believing that his Team has his back. It is also important for me to live my life outside of what he does for a living. That's why I'm a caterer. If I dwell on what he does I'd go crazy or die of a heart attack.

Sophie held Winnie's hand, squeezing it assuringly, "I don't listen, watch or read the news until after the fact. Live coverage doesn't do it for me. Anyway, what's this I've been hearing from the grapevine?"

Winnie flashed a shy smile, an understanding passed between them. No words were necessary. Sophie gave the younger woman a hug and whispered, "Hang in there."

In the truck, Spike was getting ready to put his plan in play. He checked the time, he had less than 10 hours before he's bleaching in the sun somewhere, it will not come to that.

He still had to look after his mom, Bridget and Liley.

He still had to see Leslie McCoy married off.

He still had to finish baby Babycakes.

He still had a lot to learn from SRU.

And, he still had to romance Winnie Camden.

_**It will not come to that!**_


	16. We Play to Win

_The action continues….. And, the love story continues… The title of this chapter is a tribute to the writers of Flashpoint._

_Swear Word Alert. If you'll likely to be offended by one F word, please skip this chapter. As a writer I thought about it long and hard, the OC who said it required it to be "in character."_

**We Play to Win**

_At 9am tomorrow, I would either be dead or alive_. He sure intended to be alive! Staring death in the face forced Spike to order his life priorities. He looked at his watch, less than 10 hours to deadline but first things, first.

He sent emails and said the things he'd say if they were his last words, in case it doesn't go according to plan. His first email was to Bridget, his childhood love.

Bridg,

I just want to tell you how much you mean to me. Thank you for teaching me about unconditional love. Give Liley a hug for me. I will see you soon. Love, Mike

Then, he sent one to Winnie.

Win,

Sorry I got held up at work. (sad face). Promise it's not always like this (smiley). What about reconsidering your rule? (double smiley). Hope you like the attachment (triple smiley). Love, Spiky

He sent one to Leslie.

Les,

I'm held up at work but don't think for one minute you're out of my sight. Guardian Angel without wings, Spike

Most of all, he'd really, really, really like to call his Mom but he had less than 10 hours to get things done, realistically, talking to Mrs Scarlatti would probably use up all his remaining time on earth. He had to postpone death. Whatever happens this is NOT the end game, he thought of Ed Lane, "We play to win, Mr Scarlatti, we play to win."

_**I will play to win.**_

The goons took everything off him. No cell phone, beeper, Ipod, and Ipad. The bastards destroyed his on-board camera, speaker, printer, scanner and fax. All he had left was the on-board sophisticated computer, and honestly, it was all he needed.

He logged on and contacted the CRIB. He knew there was a mega monitor and if anyone was paying attention to it, it's GAME ON. This appeared on the screen. "Mayday"

It was Binary who saw it first. "He's in, guys."

"Hey, big brother."

"Binary! (hug) I don't have time. 9am tomorrow I would either be dead or alive so we'll have to get ourselves in gear."

"xox, whatever you need, Spike, we're all here for you."

"Thanks, my Boss there?"

Binary looked at Greg who said "I'm here." Binary typed it.

"Sorry, Boss"

"Not your fault, son."

"I know, just sayin'. How's everyone?"

"We're ok."

"What aren't you telling me?" Binary and Greg paused. Greg looked at Raf who didn't move. "ED and Jules are in the hospital. Ed with a dislocated shoulder and Jules with concussion."

"IED?"

"Yeah, IED!"

"How are you holding up?" Greg closed his eyes and sighed inwardly, _How could I not love this guy like a son? His world has gone to shits and he's asking how I'm holding up._ The question struck a chord with everyone in the room.

"Don't worry about me, look after yourself. We've got your back, whatever you need."

"Copy that, Boss. Is Raf ok?"

"Ask him yourself, he's here."

"Hey, bro. Good to see you're still on your feet."

"Yeah, thanks to Sam's magic driving. Come back soon, ok?"

"Raf, look after the Boss while I'm away." It all got too much for Sarge, who just couldn't bear it anymore so he left the room. Later Raf would find him in the men's room bawling his eyes out. The rookie went to the keyboard and typed the reply himself, "Yeah, promise, but this is a temporary arrangement right? (smiley)

"Yeah, be back soon."

"Is Yoh-Lin there?"

"Here, mate."

"Mate, did you say mate? Where have you been?"

"Above your pay grade (smiley). Who did you piss off this time?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny. "

"What can I do, buddy?"

"I've got a plan but it'd take too long to explain. Here's the gist, I'm going to start an international incident which will get everyone in Maximo's gang and everyone else in the chain worldwide."

"Maximo?"

"Contact Wordy, Guns and Gangs." At Yoh-Lin's head nod, someone from CSIS was on to Wordy. They would dig up everything they could on this arsehole and if he was living on any patch of Canada, he's toast.

"How do you plan to start an incident?"

"Can't explain but be ready for cosmic chaos (smiley) every Top Guns will on your head in one hour."

"Ok, consider it done."

Someone tall, tanned and toned went to the keyboard, "Spike, its Andrew. Do you know why they took you?"

"Andrew, you're my man (smiley). They want me to move some 30 shipping containers to the top of the Q and bypass inspection. We can assume these containers are contrabands. I've got the list but there's no quick way to do this. I've got no scanner, fax, printer, speaker or camera, no cell phone either. It will take too long for me to type, wait I have an idea"

Three seconds passed, a long time in computing waiting time, Andrew typed, "Spike, you there?" No immediate answer. They waited in suspended animation, _What's taking so long?_ Raf was getting anxious.

Andrew typed again, "Spike?"

Binary sighed audibly that signalled everyone in the room to remember to breathe.

After five very long minutes, Spike was back, "I think I got the fax to work. What's the number?"

Andrew received a note and typed in the alphanumeric equivalent of CSIS CRIB. It was a special number. Spike faxed the list. Someone was already standing by the machine ready to grab it.

"Got it."

"Trace who's shipping these containers, be ready to supply the info to the powers that be. Hopefully, when I put my plan to work, you guys can also find me."

Paul nudged Andrew over, "Spike, its Paul. I was wondering how you're able to talk to us, are you alone?"

"Yeah."

"Why can't you just walk away? We're worried for you. (sad face)"

Spike didn't reply for two seconds, an eternity in computing time. And when he did, it knocked the air out of them. "I can't, I'm sitting on a bomb." At the word bomb and the fact that he's sitting on one caused everyone to pause, whatever they were doing they stopped mid-way. Raf went to look for Sarge.

One. Lone. Voice. said out loud what everyone was thinking, "Fuck me," she said.

"OMG" was all Paul could manage to type.

It was Spike who recovered first, putting sentimentality aside, he typed, "We have 9 hours left. Hopefully you're able to ping my location before my time expires. I've got to get to work. I'll be in touch." And Spike was gone. Now, it's the waiting game to see what hits the fan.

Winnie got home late from the hospital. She was in an emotional vortex, she felt like she was left inside a washing machine and left to spin. She tried desperately to remember what Sophie said, "I trust in my husband." _I've got to trust Spike. He knows what he's doing because he's bright, and clever and wonderful. _She sat in front of her study table. There's an email for her, she opened it and it took her breath away.

Win,

Sorry I got held up at work. (sad face). Promise it's not always like this (smiley). What about reconsidering your rule? (double smiley). Hope you like the attachment (triple smiley). Love, Spiky

She clicked on the attachment, it was a song by Ronan Keating, "If Tomorrow Never comes". She played it.

_Sometimes late at night_

_I lie awake and watch her sleeping_

_She's lost in peaceful dreams_

_So I turn out the lights and lay there in the dark_

_And the thought crosses my mind_

_If I never wake up in the morning_

_Would she ever doubt the way I feel_

_About her in my heart_

_If tomorrow never comes_

_Will she know how much I loved her_

_Did I try in every way to show her every day_

_That she's my only one_

_And if my time on earth were through_

_And she must face this world without me_

_Is the love I gave her in the past_

_Gonna be enough to last_

_If tomorrow never comes_

_'Cause I've lost loved ones in my life_

_Who never knew how much I loved them_

_Now I live with the regret_

_That my true feelings for them never were revealed_

_So I made a promise to myself_

_To say each day how much she means to me_

_And avoid that circumstance_

_Where there's no second chance to tell her how I feel_

_If tomorrow never comes_

_Will she know how much I loved her_

_Did I try in every way to show her every day_

_That she's my only one_

_And if my time on earth were through_

_And she must face this world without me_

_Is the love I gave her in the past_

_Gonna be enough to last_

_If tomorrow never comes_

_So tell that someone that you love_

_Just what you're thinking of_

_If tomorrow never comes_

She couldn't believe it. He made a VERY BIG gesture, Winnie cried herself to a restless sleep.


	17. Let the Games Begin

_Swear Word Alert: Please, a heads up, a couple of F words. This is a fun chapter. _

**Let the Games Begin**

Spike knew all about ECHELON, the signals intelligence system that pinged words like IED, bombs, terrorist, Jihad and traced the IP addresses of the sources' chatter. But that would take time. He couldn't afford to lose precious minutes. A direct hit on target was the only way to go.

So direct it was: He sent anthrax threats to high profile targets. Top of the list were the Federal Reserve Bank of the USA, Perth Mint in Australia, Changi Airport in Singapore, The office of the Chancellor of the Exchequer in the UK. For good measure, he emailed sarin gas threats to the office of the International Police (Interpol) in Lyon France and Deutsche Bundesbank of Germany.

Using Google translation, he ended all emails with _Smrt na imperijalistickin svinja!_ It translated to Death to Imperialist Pigs! in the Croatian language.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that high profile targets didn't take threats idly. Before anyone at CSIS had a chance to digest their food, Armageddon happened. It was the unusual number of breaking news on CNN that alerted CSIS.

Yoh-Lin went to Greg and Raf privately, "Your man's good. He's good!" There was an air of excitement. All they could do was watch it unfold on the television screen – for now.

Stateside, this eventuated. The Federal Reserve Bank called in the Homeland Security, the CIA, and the FBI, and the ATF. It was a day for alphabet soup. The employees were evacuated; and the vaults were shut and guarded by armed black clad Special Forces. Cybercrime specialists were called in. It didn't matter if they were on holiday, sleeping, sick, or on their death bed, they were hauled in to find out where the threat had come from. They soon pinpointed the source of the threat from within Toronto.

The Homeland Secretary was on the screen to "sort out the threat" with Dir. Hinton. The Director acknowledged, "Yes, we're aware there's a genuine threat from known Croatian gang headed by someone known as Maximo." And, "Yes, we're doing all we can." And, "Yes, we would appreciate all the help we can get." And, "By the way, this gang has been receiving shipments from New York and California."

A CSIS Analyst took over the small details. He gave the identity number of the shipping containers from New York and California to his FBI counterpart. The machinery of the Bureau went to work. Within hours, gangsters were being picked up from various locations. Arrest, ask questions later!

Privately, the Director had a confidential talk with Secretary of the Homeland Security, "We need help to locate our man." At the conclusion of the talk, satellites shifted. "We'll ping his location in no time."

"Thank you, Mr Secretary."

It was especially swift in Singapore. Changi Airport had the reputation of being the world's best. And best meant the cleanest, the most efficient, and the safest. An anthrax threat was enough to get everything grounded to a halt. Passengers and staff were evacuated, costing the Singapore economy massive losses. As an international hub, its closure affected airlines and airports all around the world. No flight in and out of Changi was bad news.

Singapore believed in democracy until there was an imminent threat. If your last name spelt remotely Croatian, you were questioned. They were processed quickly and released quickly but those proven to have syndicate connection didn't stand a chance.

Singapore's Head of State was on the CRIB's screen, "We received a threat from within Toronto. What's going on?" He was told of shipments from Singapore Port. Within minutes, Singapore Police, one of the world's best were arresting the "forwarding sources" of the shipping containers.

It's the same in Australia. "Who the hell messes with Perth Mint?" Same scenario unfolded in Perth and in Sydney, arrests were made at forwarding locations of the contrabands. And so it all went to plan.

Greg Parker observed the chaotic activities, he said to Raf, "The good people of Croatia would be celebrating tonight, their bad apples have been de-cored." The rookie laughed. "Boss, are we any closer to finding Spike? It's five in the morning, four hours to D-Day."

Parker caught up with Yoh-Lin, "Are we closer to finding Spike? This is all very exciting but I think we've forgotten whose life is at stake here."

"Yes, we're closer. We've pinged his location, and we've located Maximo's hideout. His contacts overseas have started singing." So, it's gone according to plan.

"Maximo is in custody," someone shouted over the din. The whole room erupted. "We've got Spike but we still need to get him off his chair."

"I'll do it," it was from the lone voice who uttered the memorable F word.

"You sure."

"Yeah, course I am." She sought out Greg and Raf and introduced herself, "Billy, EOD RAAF." She offered her hands to Greg first and then to Raf, "What's RAAF?"

"Royal Australian Air Force, on secondment to RCMP. I know Spike. It would be my honour to get his ass off that stool." Greg and Raf laughed at the tough talking Billy. She was no more than 4'10 (1.47 meters give or take), probably weighed no more than 80 pounds dripping wet (36 kilos give or take).

Raf was so taken by her, "I don't mean to offend. You remind me of Hetty,"

"Hetty?"

"The Boss on NCIS: LA. Do you watch TV?"

Billy laughed so hard it embarrassed Raf. "No, I'm not offended. That's kinda cute." She winked at Raf who blushed. _Thank God I'm black._

Greg called SRU to report the good news, it spread like wild fire. It's six am, what the heck he dialled Winnie's number who answered quickly, "We got his location. He's gonna be ok." The young despatcher thanked him and cried again as soon as the call ended.

The Sarge didn't think it was necessary for Winnie to know that the drama wasn't over. What for? It's not as if she could do anything about it. And, if anyone could get Spike out that Truck in one piece, it would be Billy.

"Alright, let's get Spike out of there." Aside from Billy, two other EOD personnel went along to the abandoned warehouse where Spike was kept. As a courtesy Greg and Raf were invited to come along.

At the site, the Truck was looking worse for wear. Scattered around were pieces of its hardware. Billy gathered her kit, apart from her vest and helmet with a built-in camera she wasn't wearing any other protective suit. It would just get in the way, she said. But Raf had another thought_, I doubt they make miniature bomb suit. I better not tell her that._

Greg observed that his rookie has a crush on Billy, and why not, she's funny, vivacious and ridiculously cute. _Wait, she reminds me of someone. Kate Moss. That's who._

Billy climbed in the Truck wary of booby traps and trip wires. She examined the door carefully, nothing there. The camera focused in on Spike who was sitting with his head on the desk. He looked tired. "Oh, Spike," was all Greg could mutter.

"Guess who's here to your rescue?" The voice sounded friendly and weird. Spike looked up and nearly got up from his chair to give his visitor a hug. She quickly extended out her hands, "Woo, I'm not that excited to be reunited with you." She said cheekily.

Spike realised what he nearly did and apologised. Billy gave him a hug. She's so short that she's the same height as Spike when seated. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"No one small enough to fit under the seat, in this Truck, so I'm afraid I'm all you've got." Billy was feeling bright and cheeky. She sat in front of Spike, cross-legged and enjoyed torturing her friend, "Fuck me, you look like hell."

"You still talk like a drunken sailor. You're a disgrace to womankind." She laughed heartily. Raf felt jealous of how easily she bantered with Spike. _Oh, don't be silly, they're old friends._

"I have to get under the stool to see what type of bomb it is, don't you fart." It brought laughter all around to the guys watching it from a remote screen. "She's hilarious," one of the EOD said.

"I'm sitting on a bomb and you're worried about fart."

"Hey, I don't like breathing in methane gas, ok."

Billy gave Spike a small monitor so he could also "read" the bomb's design. _It's time_. She smiled, exhaled, and wriggled under the stool, the camera recording all she sees. The other two expert EODs were seeing the bomb as she sees it. In the end, they agreed it's a simple piece of work, one yellow wire. Snip it and they're both home.

She crawled out and conferred with her mates, and discussed it with Spike. "It's the yellow wire right?"

"It sure looks like it."

Billy was poised to crawl back under Spike's stool when he said, "Give me the cutter."

"Sorry?"

"One man down range."

Billy looked at Spike, flabbergasted. "There's no way you can cut that wire without taking pressure off that stool."

Greg had a moment of déjà vu. _Jesus, no. Not again_. He went pale. Raf caught the Sarge's reaction. An understanding dawned on him, too.

"What the fuck are you saying?"

"If we're wrong, it will take both of us down."

"But we're right. You and I, we both agree. There's no need for this."

"If the situation was reversed, you're here and I'm there, tell me, you wouldn't say the same. I can do it. I don't have to take my body off the stool. I can plank on it with my stomach muscles, and cut the wire. Easy peasy."

But if Spike was made of steel, she was made of titanium. Billy was the only EOD personnel who's beaten Super Geek in a game of bomb dismantling and was not about to give in. _Plank, my ass. An inch off that seat and you'd be blown to pieces._

Before anyone knew what was happening, Billy crawled back under Spike's stool and cut the yellow wire. "Done," she announced. She crawled out, hugged Spike tightly and said, "Get your ass off that stool. There are people who want to see your ugly mug."

"Thanks" was all Spike could say.

It was 8am by the time Spike reached SRU HQ and Winnie was back on board. One look at her and he knew she didn't sleep well. He looked at Sarge, an understanding passed between them. With that tacit permission, Super Geek removed the head set from Winnie and pulled her for a hug.

She melted in his arms, but all she said was, "I'm glad you're safe."

He took it to mean she hasn't reconsidered her position; he was back to square one. He felt deflated and a little discouraged but he also didn't want to let her go. This _**Azurri**_ wasn't ready to face defeat!

He released her and said, "Thanks." She felt a pang of regret but if there was anything this experience taught her it was she wasn't ready to live in constant state of anxiety and worry and God knows what else. But she also didn't to let him go. _Oh, I don't know_. She cursed herself mentally.

Her Mom's word came back to haunt her….'_Everything has risks'._


	18. Little Manhattan

_Author's Note: This chapter is a tribute to one of the most beautiful, romantic films of all time: Little Manhattan._

_The collection of DVDs was first mentioned in the story "Remembrances of Lewis" specifically the last two chapters. _

_**Tissue alert! **_

**Little Manhattan**

Spike decided he would court Winnie by simply being himself.

He wasn't a Gridiron sort of guy. Ruck and muck wasn't his style. Barrelling through solid defenses wasn't an option. His approach was more sophisticated. He would do it with flair. He would apply the tricks and tactics of the beautiful game: Football or what they call soccer Stateside. The game of the Azurri. His game.

This courtship between him and her would be of sexy and fancy footwork; of running the ball down the length of the pitch and then faking sideways just as she anticipates his attempt to score a goal. It would be about moving fluidly and then stopping the ball abruptly using only the toes or the heel. It would be about moving forward, while being tightly in control of the ball and then slamming it into the back of the net just when she's tiring of watching his every move. It would be about flying in the air, kicking the ball overhead and flipping his body so he lands on his feet. It would be about scoring **the **goal just when she has lowered her guard and least expected it.

And then he would celebrate by running into the middle of the pitch, sliding down on bended knees, kissing the ground and raising his arms in triumph. Shirtless, too, if she'd have it that way!

He has caught her off guard many times. How often has he rendered her speechless with something he's said or done?

Michaelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti has every reason to feel supremely blessed today. He's just been given the best report card by his physiotherapist. His arm was healing well and faster than anticipated. _Back on full duties soon_. _No restrictions. Heavy lifting included._

And then there's the near completion of Project Hard Drive with the able assistance of Clark and Dean. And, of course, being on "restricted duties" there's this beautiful woman he gets to sit next to most days.… _Can it get any better than this?_

So he did a double take when he found Peter in her place. "Where's Winnie?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.

"I'm not sure," Peter replied with a smirk, enjoying his obvious disappointment. "Ask the Boss." Spike went in search of Sgt Parker but spied him writing reports.

With no Winnie and with the Boss preoccupied, he fetched Babycakes, the bomb sniffing robot, from the workshop and brought it up to the hallway. This was their favourite place to tune up since it's much brighter than the basement. For over an hour, he happily adjusted and fiddled with the controls while Babycakes' caterpillar track whined away to Peter's displeasure.

"Spike, can you please do that somewhere else?"

"What's wrong?" he said.

"The droning is giving me a headache."

Spike smiled. "Ok, it won't be long…. Thirty minutes and we're done."

The Team disbanded just as the Techie was finishing with Babycakes. Sgt Parker approached and teased him about how well he looked. He grinned, thanked Greg for the compliment then subtly inquired about Winnie.

"She had a bike accident. I understand she fell off and sprained her wrist. What about you?"

He shared his improved prognosis, "Won't be long, nearly 100%." Then he asked Greg, rather uncharacteristically, if he could have the rest of the day off since he's done what he needed to do for the day.

"It's nearly end of shift anyway. Go! Scoot!" He beamed widely and thanked Parker for the dispensation. After he returned Babycakes in the workshop, he hurriedly changed to his street clothes. It was nearly mid-day.

He was glad he drove to work today. With his right arm improving as it was, driving just became part of his exercise routine. The motion of turning the wheels helping to loosen the tightness in his arm muscle, provided he didn't overextend the arm though.

His first stop was home. To look for a film from the collection of DVDs Lewis Young left him. Lewis who was his best friend and the brother he never had. When Lou bequeathed his film collection to him, he wrote in his Last Will and Testament that he was doing so because "Spike Scarlatti had to laugh again."

He didn't think he could laugh again. Not ever. His best friend's passing was too horrific to contemplate. Stepping on a land mine and being blown up in the middle of Toronto City where peace reigned was just too incomprehensible; too gruesome and too unfair.

Yet he did find happiness and healing. It took some time but he did come to a place of acceptance and less guilt. This he did through his friend's generosity and kindness. He didn't understand it then but he does now. When he first received the DVDs he thought it was a cruel joke. But now… it's from these hundreds of films he sought solace and laughter and catharsis when he needed it.

He found the specific one he was looking for, **Little Manhattan**. He heart leaped, _good to go_.

Next stop was his favourite Italian restaurant. He asked for take-out of his favourite Pasta and a bottle of red wine. He didn't want to over-do it – yet! Today, it's about finesse and subtlety; nothing to rock the boat or cause her to retreat in fright.

He wasn't sure it was the right to do. She might not be home or may not want company. In that case, he would leave the food, the wine and the film for her to enjoy by herself. His presence, he thought, should be optional. Nevertheless, he hoped that his company would be acceptable.

It was 1:30pm by the time he reached her apartment. _She's probably eaten lunch_. He mentally prepared a speech in case_, Hi, I brought you something for dinner_. But no doubt, the words would come out wrong. He decided the less he rehearsed it, the better it would be.

He reached Winnie's apartment and stood undecided by the door. A quote from the movie sprang to mind as he stood there frozen, _"But it wasn't that easy. I guess love never is."_ He repeated it in his head.

Determination replaced indecision, he knocked; tentatively at first and then with purpose. He heard footsteps, someone coming to the door. He took a step back to allow her some personal space.

The door opened slightly. It shut again – abruptly. He knew it was her although he didn't see an inch of her. He knocked again and called out her name softly, "Winnie, aren't you gonna at least receive what I've got for you?"

He heard a sigh. The door opened, "Come in," she said.

He entered and was stunned to see a very angry bruise on the right side of her face, and the length of her right arm as well. "I fell off my bike last night," she said.

"You didn't just fall off your bike…" he said with a tinge of angst.

"Yes and no. I was hit by a car. It's just bruises. That's all. And, a sprained right wrist."

"Concussion?"

"No…. no, concussion. Just my right side."

He gave her a once over. She was wearing sports shorts that showed the purplish discolouration on his legs. He has no doubt along the length of her torso, too. He felt angry for some reason.

Winnie hobbled to the kitchen, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No. Please sit down," he put everything down on the kitchen bench and assisted her back to the couch. That's when he noticed the Teddy Bear, "What did you name him?"

"Teddy," she said smiling.

"How original," he teased. "Here, sit down. I got food." He left her to rest while he busied himself in the kitchen. He returned to the living room and handed her a plate of pasta. "Go ahead, you must be starving." She tucked in slowly, her bruised facial muscle giving her grief with every bite.

Spike joined her in the living room. He observed how much difficulty she was having eating. "Would you like me to get you something easier to chew?"

She shook her head, "This is fine."

He served her wine to compliment the vegetarian lasagne and to help her relaxed. They ate quietly, til Win said, "Spike, I have a rule."

He nodded, "I know, I heard you the first time. You don't date cops. This is not a date. This is a visit. You know, friends visit friends when they're sick or unwell."

"Ok," she said laughing.

"Oh, that reminds me, I've got a movie. Little Manhattan. Have you seen it?"

She shook her head side-to-side, he cracked a smile. "Good, you'll love it."

Spike fed it into the DVD player. Then they were laughing their heads off and that's just the opening sequence. It was, indeed, such a lovely film.

When the movie ended, Spike cleaned up. The visit… it has taken her by surprise. He found her with her guard down and she felt overwhelmed. Part of her didn't want him to leave. The whole damn living room felt like one electrified cauldron. Surely, she thought, they would crackle with kinetic energy if they so much as touch fingertips.

When he was done cleaning, he knelt down in front of her. Gently placed his hands on her knees which caused her to shiver, "Will you be ok alone?"

She inwardly felt stupid saying, "Yeah, I'm ok." But realistically, she reminded herself, what choice has she got?

"Alright," he said. While he intently stared at her, he quoted from the movie, "_Love isn't about ridiculous little words. Love is about grand gestures. Love is about airplanes pulling banners over stadiums, proposals on jumbo-trons, giant words in sky writing. Love is about going that extra mile even if it hurts, letting it all hang out there. Love is about finding courage inside of you that you didn't even know was there._"

She involuntarily teared up. He used his thumbs to dry her tears and said, "When you're ready… cause I am."

He stood to leave because it was important to him to give her an out; a dignified way out so she wouldn't feel awkward around him. If they couldn't be lovers then, at the very least, they would remain very good friends. He wasn't prepared to risk losing her friendship.

But so she knows where his heart truly is, he left her the film. Accidentally on purpose.


	19. Five Senses

**Five Senses**

Dusk covered the City, she was lounging on the couch with a novel when she heard Joe Cocker serenade her with _You are so beautiful to me. _At the first instance she wanted to answer it to hear the caller's voice but stopped herself to listen to the whole chorus. By now she knew when to answer it before it goes to voice mail.

"Hi, beautiful," he said. She didn't know how to reply to the greeting. After his visit this afternoon, she didn't trust herself to string a sentence that would not betray her conflicting emotions so she kept it simple and said, "Hi" back. She heard Spike chuckle.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah… Georgia, that's my flatmate, she's home." The pretty blonde heard her name. She stopped pottering in the kitchen to eavesdrop.

"That's good… I'd hate for you to be alone."

"Thanks."

"Ok, goodnight. Sleep well."

"You too… sleep well."

That's where they ended the briefest of conversation. She was disappointed he didn't say if he was coming to visit again tomorrow. But what did she expect? She gave him the _stop sign_ when he asked her out, then reiterated it today. _Good work, Winnie_.

Georgia spied on Winnie for a minute, and took notice of the melancholic demeanour, "Who was that?"

"Spike… a guy I work with. He's just checking I'm not alone tonight."

Winnie wasn't fooling anyone. Her short, telegraphic answers were dead give-aways. Her flatmate probed easily, "Anyone significant?"

"Ah, no. Just a co-worker."

Georgia laughed, "Sure, sure. Just a co-worker. If you can only see yourself." She teased. "But I'll spare you tonight cos I know you're in pain. But mercy ends when your bruises turn yellowy. Then I want to know ALL the details without the bullshit."

Winnie awarded her a grimacing smile. "Behave yourself or I'll send you back to Vancouver." They've known each other since they were children and only got separated when Georgia's family moved to British Columbia on account of her father's work situation.

"That's supposed to scare me," she replied wide-eyed causing her blue-coloured irises to dance in the light. "Anyway, do you need help to get in the bath?"

Winnie inspected herself; the bruises were swollen and painful. She really must take care to soak in the tub to manage the pain. "Yeah, please."

Georgia retired to her bedroom once Winnie was out of the tub. "Night, night darling," she said and casually kissed the top of her head. "Good night," she said in return.

Winnie went to bed but had difficulty sleeping. She was uncomfortable but that was the least of her problem. There were intrusive thoughts she couldn't get rid of. The harder she tried the more the images clung to her. There's the image of Spike sitting across her laughing his heart out; standing in the kitchen washing up; squatting in front of her with his hands on her knees.

She gave up trying to get some sleep after an hour of tossing and turning. _Little Manhattan_, _I'm pretty sure the DVD is still inside the player. _She padded softly to the living room to get the disc. Georgia has to go to work tomorrow, she didn't think it fair to watch a movie at such ungodly hour. She watched it on her laptop instead so she could use the earphone, lay on her bed and hopefully fall asleep.

It was nine in the morning when she joined the living. Georgia was gone, off to work at a media centre downtown.

She forced herself to walk around the flat, flexing and stretching her aching muscles. Next, she removed the gauze off her wrist and inspected it. After 48 hours, the swelling has gone down slightly. Satisfied with her self-inspection, she ran the water for her lukewarm Epsom salt bath. Then she became aware of someone knocking at the door.

She left the water running, opened the door without thinking. "Do you always open the door without checking?"

"Jules!" She squealed in surprise. "Ah, yeah, I usually check but I wasn't thinking."

"Obviously."

She unceremoniously gave Winnie a large bouquet of flowers, "Get well soon, we miss you at HQ."

"Thank you," she was greatly moved by the offering, then she got out of the way, "Come in."

"I can't. I'm late for shift but we'll drop by soon." Jules reached up to touch her right cheek, "Take care of yourself."

"Thanks." Winnie watched her friend's back until she couldn't see her anymore before closing the door.

She transferred it in a vase, gave it centre stage on the coffee table and admired it. She heard knocking on the door again, she hurried as best she could expecting to see Jules, _She must have forgotten something._ To her surprise, it was Michaelangelo Scarlatti.

"That's an improvement," he said, "You didn't slam the door on me this time."

She looked down, was tongue-tied, then remembered to move side-ways, "Come in."

Spike's eyes fell on the massive bouquet on the coffee table. She didn't know what he thought of it but she wanted him to know it was from SRU. "Jules delivered it just now, in fact, I thought it was her again… oh, never mind."

It was Spike who noticed the bathroom was flooding, he could tell from the sound. "You have a plumbing problem?" he asked with one eyebrow raised. She clutched her chest and said, "Oh, I was preparing my bath…" She tried to rush to the bathroom but Spike was faster.

"It's ok, I got it." He put some stuff down on the kitchen bench to mop up the overflow. But Spike was taking time, she didn't know what was taking so long, curious she checked on him. He was preparing her bath. "Shall I help you in? I won't look, promise."

_God almighty._ She knew right then she didn't need water to drown. She was experiencing sensation-overload, enough to drown her five times over. Eventually, she found her voice, "It's ok, I'll manage."

She went to her room to get her towel and a change of clothes, and was horrified to realise she was still wearing her lacy night gown_. Oh my God_. _Oh my God_. If Spike noticed, he didn't show it. She came out of her bedroom, his back was turned from her, busily attending to a pumpkin and some other ingredients.

She hastily went to bathroom, closed the door and gently lowered herself in the foam-filled bath. She could smell lavender in the water. Not long after she immersed herself in it, there was a gentle tap on the door, "Are you in the bath yet?"

"Uhum," she said.

She sensed him enter the bathroom, her stomach twisted in a knot. The light went out; from the corner of her eyes she saw the flickering of candle lights materialised from behind her. It smelt of roses, he placed one by the foot of the tub and another on the vanity. He knelt down close to her, touched her lips with his thumb. Instantly, she felt electricity run riot inside her. And all he said was, "Twenty minutes is best."

He stood to leave, then she heard him say from the door, "Call if you need help getting out." _Like hell I would_, she whispered to herself. _But God that was excruciating_.

He busied himself in the kitchen, but he must have been keeping an eye on the clock, "Time's up," he said from behind the bathroom door. "Ok." She unplugged the drain and let the water run out. She finally had to admit defeat when she was unable to find traction with her feet on the slippery bath surface, she just could not efficiently brace herself, not without the use of her right limbs.

He must have guessed. "Coming in," he said, "I promise not to look." He entered with his eyes closed, offered her a hand and pulled her up gently on her feet and over the tub.

"Thanks," she said. He left without a backward glance.

She came out dressed in a sleeveless white sundress, the easiest attire to put on. In the background, Johann Strauss was playing on the CD player. One look at her and he smiled. She guessed why. Her hair must look like an over-used steel wool. She hasn't been able to brush her hair decently since she sprained her right wrist, she will have to ask Georgia to help her.

"Where do you keep your hair brush?"

"In the bathroom."

"I'll get it." He got her to sit on a bar stool. "It's hard when you're right-handed," he said. "Trust me, I know."

He took his time brushing her hair, so she teasingly said, "If you're hoping to straighten it... it's not gonna happen." He returned the brush back to the bathroom.

"Hungry?" he inquired.

"Uhum, what's for lunch chef?"

"Pumpkin soup, with optional yoghurt topping. Bruschetta on the side; and choice of dessert: chocolate cake or ice cream."

She had two helpings of the soup but she passed up on the bruschetta. He encouraged her to dip it in her soup to soften it but she declined. He's already seen her in all her worse glory, bruised face, purple skin, lacy night gown, steel wool hair. The last thing she wanted was to smear herself with pumpkin soup as she's bound to do. _No, thank you_.

When they were done with lunch, they washed the dishes together. He washed, she dried. It felt so... um... so domesticated. She groaned audibly, a release of pent-up confusion and anxiety. He turned to look at her, concerned, "You're hurting?"

She looked into his eyes and thought, _More than you know_. Instead she shook her head dumbly and said, "I'm fine."

He put the last plate unto the dish rack to drip dry. He moved closer to her and brushed his lips ever so lightly on hers. It was such a sudden move on his part. She felt on fire but just as quickly he moved to the living room, sat at the end of the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table like he owned the place. He patted the seat next to him, "Come on, lie down and rest."

Her brain must have got washed down the drain because she abided by his suggestion. She laid on her left side, tucked her legs at the knees, used his thigh for a pillow. He opened a book to read. It must be a good book because he was totally engrossed in it, but she noticed something. He touched her lips with his thumb; and it seemed to her in a rather absent-minded manner, circled the outline of her lips. She was enjoying it a little too much so she gripped his hands to stop it.

She's become acutely aware that the battle has been lost. How soon before she acknowledge it was all that remained to be seen. She's felt his touch; tasted his food; smelt his choice fragrances; heard his laughter and his jokes and peeped into his soul. Her five senses were overwhelmed.

It was three in the afternoon when he left but not before reminding her what love is according to little Gabe.


	20. An Affair to Remember

_I don't own the movie, "An Affair to Remember" but it fits the story just fine so I borrowed it._

_Very giddy alert._

**An Affair to Remember**

Winnie recovered from her injuries and was back at work four days after her accident. Thanks in part to Spike's tender loving care. But in no part thanks to Georgia's constant harassment about Spike, who she's failing… refusing… to believe was "just as friend."

As they passed despatch, Jules and Sam beamed at Winnie, "Hey, is everything good?" The tiny one was clearly in a good mood; and it was contagious.

Win smiled back. "Yup, quiet as a church," the female despatcher replied.

Sam was quick to wave and said, "Don't jinx it."

"Spike in?" inquired Jules.

"Nope!" replied Win still smiling. "Ask Leah when she gets here… she might know something I don't." The good-looking couple smiled. _Of course, we knew. They all knew. _

The couple wasn't surprised to find Ed already in the Gym. There has been lingering suspicion that the bald eagle actually lived at HQ in secret. One day, Jules said she'll search for the Team Leader's hidey hole.

The conversation in the Gym turned to the issue of the day, "Spinnie".

"What gives?" Sam asked aloud.

"Yeah, what gives?" seconded Raf as he turned the corner from the locker room.

Ed, who was already cycling his heart out replied, "Who could fathom the unfathomable depth of a female's mind?" Sam and Ed high-fived, Jules punched them both. "That's because you guys are so shallow you drown in two inches of grey matter."

Sam and Raf took to the stationary bicycles either side of Ed. Jules started with yoga pose. Leah walked in in the middle of their Men vs Women debate, "Hey, what's up guys?" In a few words, Jules briefed her on the current topic. The Haitian sat next to Jules, crossed her legs, took yoga point from Jules. Leah smiled, "So what started all this?"

"Spike and Winnie," answered Sam.

Leah sparked up. She's a fan of those two, "Yeah… that took me by surprise. I would have thought it was a done deal from the word 'go'."

Ed got off the bicycle, stood with his legs a foot apart, placed his arms on his waist. "Exactly what I'm saying… women… who understands them? Personally, I'm surprise I'm still married. That's probably because I'm hardly home.. cause honestly.… half the time I don't know what's going on inside Soph's head."

"Does she know?" said a familiar voice from behind them. The Boss had walked in on them.

"Oh yeah she knows," said Ed coolly. "Cause apparently, I have this clueless look on my face." They laughed at the revelation, they couldn't picture Clueless Ed. Even funnier, they couldn't imagine him being told off by Soph, cause here at HQ he gets to do the telling off.

Glancing in the despatcher's direction, Jules, the Techie's little big sister said, "I wonder though if Spike could use a little help with Winnie." If God had granted him a female sibling, she would have to be someone like Jules Callaghan.

Leah smiled. "I don't think he needs help. I think he's got a strategy in play." The Boss concurred, "That he has."

Days crept by, summer turned to fall.** And Spike was still single.**

It was getting very close to his birthday and honestly, truthfully, he'd rather not spend it alone. He went to work and immediately homed in on Winnie. Normally, he'd wave at her, head straight to the locker room, change into sports clothes and hit the treadmill. Only after all that would he chit-chat with Winnie. Not today.

He sat next to Winnie, adjusted the seat so he could recline his whole body, his legs stretched out in front. He locked his fingers behind his head and dramatically exhaled which Winnie found funny.

"What's up with you?" she said.

"It's my birthday tomorrow."

She squealed, "Happy birthday," she kissed him on the cheek and said, "So what would you like for your birthday?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Nothing? Surely even a guy who has everything wants something," she said with a smile.

He looked at her, "Actually there's something I want but I can't have it," he said rather forlornly.

"What's that?"

"You," he said. She blushed instantly so he looked away. "Told you," he said. He was getting up when he paused and asked, "But would you spare two hours of your time tomorrow to keep me company? I sort of don't want to be alone."

She said "Yes." It didn't seem to register with Spike. She repeated it, "Yes."

Spike's eyes widened and said, "Yes. You mean yes."

"Yes," she said. She cupped her mouth to stop herself laughing out loud.

"Ok, ok." He said triumphantly as he tapped on her desk with his long fingers. "Tomorrow… my birthday…" He put his hands on his chest to stop his heart spilling out.

That night, Spike slept like a baby. It's his scheduled day off but Win was working. When he woke up, the first thing he did was call her. "Hi gorgeous, what time should I get you?"

She replied, "7ish?"

"Ok, 7."

She went home after shift and couldn't decide what to wear. Naturally, she called the one person she trusted the most when it came to fashion. "Steph, can you help me? I need something to wear?"

"Is it Rob again?"

"No, it's Spike." Steph squealed, "Are you serious?" If there's one thing Winnie loved about her friend it was that she was always genuinely happy for her. "Yeah, he's coming to get me at 7."

"I'll be right there. Leave it to Mama." They ended the call quickly. She decided that the best thing to do while waiting was to relax in the bath, there was no point stressing. Spike's obviously not expecting her to look like a princess considering he's mostly seen her in uniform. The only time he's seen her in a dress, a tight-fitting one at that was the day she went out with Rob to a semi-formal event. The thought liberated her. He liked me for what I am, not some imagined goddess of beauty.

She didn't know how long she's been soaking. When she got out of the bath, she was wrinkled all over. Dressed only in her bathrobe, she opened the door to let Steph in when she heard the doorbell chimed. Her beautiful friend arrived with at least half a dozen dresses. "What's these?" she asked.

"It's important to have choices."

Steph dumped them on the couch and headed out again, this time to bring in shoes and accessories. Winnie looked disbelievingly at her friend, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because, my friend, I adore you." _What have I done to deserve her?_ She hugged Steph and said, "Thanks" and "What would I do without you?"

Winnie picked up the dresses one by one to check them out; it was at this point that Georgia, her lovely flatmate arrived home from work. "Hey, what's going on here?"

"Winnie's going out with Spike," answered Steph.

"Really?" said Georgia. The two women who got to know each other through Winnie clasped hands, grind their hips like school girls and squealed.

Winnie protested vigorously. "It's not a date… he just ask me to spend a couple of hours with him so he's not alone on his birthday, that's all."

"Tell that to the Marines," replied Georgia.

Anyway, back to the dress. _Too short. Too tight. Too revealing. Not my colour. Not my style._ In the end, there was one dress that she liked. It's a vintage dress, a throwback to the 1950s. The inner piece was a nice fitting white cotton chemise, topped by a short-sleeved buttoned up sheer organza dress. And a thin belt to accentuate it.

The dress was versatile enough to be paired with either a simple black pair of heels or a pair of ballet flats. She chose the flats. She was so nervous Steph and Georgia appeared more excited for her than she was for herself.

"What do you want to do with your hair?"

"I'd leave it alone. Everyone knows I've got frizzy hair, there's no point ironing it out because it'll frizz on me anyway. I think I'd like it better if Spikes wakes up to see the same person." She stopped, covered her mouth and stared at her friends wide-eyed, who were looking back at her wide-eyed. It was a Freudian slip to end all Freudian slips!

"Not that I'd be sleeping with him!" she clarified. The friends laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. Of course she wants to sleep with Spike! Well, probably not just yet. "Um, on second thought." They burst out laughing again.

"Do you know where he's taking you?"

"No idea. Anywhere's fine."

At his apartment, Spike got busy. He called Bridget to check up on her and Liley, told her that he'd be at Thunder Bay for a week shortly, "Maybe in a couple of days. Just need to get the leave application signed off." Bridget was grateful and asked about his latest adventure. He gave her the abridged version.

She asked if Winnie was coming he said he's not sure but he'll ask her. "I'm sure if it falls on her days off, she'd want to come." Bridget was sounding tired so he said goodbye and see you later. He looked at the computer screen, Liley looked much the same. Unhappy and stressed out. "Soon, baby. Daddy's coming for you."

He checked the fridge. There's a bottle of red, "great." The food's ready. "Music?" He went over to his CD player and chose a song. Oh, he's so pleased with himself. "Candles". He went to a hidden cupboard and brought out lots of different candles. Tall, short, round, square, yellow, white, red and placed them strategically everywhere. "What else? Flowers!" He went downstairs and bought a bunch of flowers from the closest florist to his apartment. "Perfect! All's good."

He lit the candles so it wouldn't be dark when they arrive. "That reminds me, I have to isolate the light." Isolating the lights meant everything else would turn on as required but it. He took the flowers to his workshop and left it there! "That would be my piece de resistance."

He looked at the time, 6:30pm. "Perfect, just in time." He was on his way out when he realised he's forgotten something. He forgot to dress himself! He was still wearing a torn T-shirt, in fact torn around the armpit and a pair of tracksuit pants! "Madre!"

He went back inside and changed into a decent buttoned up shirt and a pair of clean jeans. He slid his feet inside a pair of slip-on loafers and he was transformed to a dashing guy. He made it to Winnie's apartment on time, rang the doorbell and was greeted by Steph and Georgia with kisses on both cheeks.

"She's just getting her purse," said Georgia.

The two ladies checked him out from head to foot, "You cleaned up very well," said Steph. He smiled shyly, the dimples showing. _No wonder our friend was hooked_. Georgia offered him a drink, "Water's fine."

When Winnie appeared wearing the vintage dress, he was delighted, his heart skipped a bit. In the car, he couldn't remember what he said to her, _I think I said you're beautiful. Never mind_. He didn't know what happened to him, he felt like an idiot.

"Where are we going?"

"To my apartment, is that ok? He asked nervously because he's only just realised that perhaps Winnie would think he had ulterior motives. _What would I do if she said she'd rather go somewhere else. Oh dear! _To his relief, Winnie smiled and said that's perfectly fine.

The minute they stepped inside the apartment, Winnie was overwhelmed by the candles. Wow. And, then the music played. It was Joe Cocker, "You Are so Beautiful." She gently pivoted on her toes like a dancer; her face came into contact with his chest. She looked up to his dimpled face and mouthed, "Thank you."

When the song ended, Winnie heard a whirring sound, "What's that?" Spike turned her around, and she saw mini Babycakes holding a bunch of flowers for her. She covered her mouth and squealed like a child.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah. Ah, by the way, happy birthday." She gave him a small present which he received with great joy. "I'll open it later."

Spike opened the fridge and got the food out and the wine. The music continued to play while they ate and talked about many trivial things. After dinner, Spike took her hands and sat her down in front of the television. "Your dress reminds me of Deborah Kerr in `An Affair to Remember'. Have you seen this film?"

"No" came the answer, "it's before my time." Spike tickled her.

He brought out the DVD, she laid on a cushion and they watched the movie together. It came to the part where Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr were at the French Riviera, Winnie said, "Yeah that's like the dress I'm wearing now." In answer, Spike kissed the top of her head.

They cried together watching the movie. She teased him for being a softie and he bit back by saying, "You made me cry." The movie was so good, they watched it again. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

She was woken by Spike's musical alarm, it was playing Ronan Keating's "When You Say Nothing at All." She smiled, clutched her chest and said, "I'm so in love." Someone next to her, said, "I heard that." The coffee machine started to brew, _What a start to the day!_

After their first cup of coffee, Spike asked her point blank, "Can you do this?" She got his drift.

Her reply was, "For no other man but you."

It was the best birthday gift EVER.


	21. Billy

_Laughter ALERT! And, because this chapter stars Billy, there is an F word._

_**Billy**_

Commander Holleran signed off on Spike's seven-day leave. Back at the Barn, it wasn't business as usual for Team One.

Ed Lane was in a narky mood, he asked Sgt Parker, "What's wrong with that guy?" pointing to Spike. "He's circled Winnie's desk a hundred times today he's making me dizzy, I swear on my grandmother's grave that if he circles it one more time I'm going to thump him."

Greg laughed his head off. "It's ok, it's all new. The novelty will wear off." Ed Lane gave Greg a look that could kill, "You said that about Babycakes, it's been four years Greg, four years and he's still infatuated with that robot. Look at him! Look at him!"

Sargent Parker peeped out of the briefing room to find Spike leaning on Winnie's desk, his fist on his chin, watching her work. "He's behaving like a puppy. I'm telling you Greg they can't work the same hours. They're so sweet together, they're giving me toothache." Greg can see that his TL has a point, a valid point, but he's prepared to give it time.

"Anyway, he's going on leave for seven days from tomorrow. He's only here to debrief and to introduce his temporary replacement." Ed was knocked off his perch, "What temporary replacement? When were you going to tell him about this!"

"You should meet her she's a fire-ball. Oh, I think she's here. Come."

By the time they reached the lobby. Billy had wrapped herself around Spike who lifted her up like a child. This surprised Winnie who still had no knowledge of Billy and most certainly none the wiser about Spike's nasty date with a pressure pad bomb. Raf and Sam both came out of the locker room to find out what the commotion was all about. The rookie was delighted to see Billy again, the cute dynamo from Down Under.

When Spike and Billy were finished with their happy reunion, Greg did the introduction. "Billy here will be Spike's temporary replacement for seven days, she's on secondment to RCMP from the Australian Royal Air Force's EOD Team. She starts today. Spike is going to brief her on his toys and team procedures." Billy gave them all a cute silly grin.

"Billy, this is Ed Lane, Team Leader of Team One." Ed extended his hands. Billy took it and he swore that his hand swallowed hers. _She does not even come up to my navel._ Ed didn't know whether to laugh or cry, W_hat the hell?_

"This is Sam, ex JTF2." They shook hands. "You sure your parents didn't just ask you to buy a bag of sugar?" Billy laughed, "You can do better than that." It put everyone at ease.

Greg grabbed Raf's shoulders, "And this guy needs no introduction." "Raf, hi." They shook hands, she raised her eyebrows teasingly, "Hetty." They both laughed at their own "private" joke, and Greg laughed right along. Sam, Ed and Spike looked at one another and shrugged.

They walked over to despatch, "And, last but not least, Winnie. We have many despatchers but she works with us mainly. This is Billy." Winnie smiled and offered her some of her _sweetheart candies_. Billy thanked her for the "cool lollies."

Spike showed Billy around. They went to the gun cage, the gym room, the locker rooms. "When do I get to meet the other members of Team One?" Super Geek was momentarily puzzled, Billy pointed to the ladies, "Oh yeah... they must be in the training yard. They're very competitive." He said with a silly grin.

While they were doing the rounds, Raf and Winnie caught up. "What do you think of her?" Winnie played dumb, "Who?"

"Billy."

"I think she's very cute and she'll fit right in. She's seems very friendly with Spike." The rookie detected a slight tinge of jealousy, "I think they met during one of those bomb disposal exercises. She disarmed the bomb Spike was sitting on…"

"Bomb? What bomb?"

Raf was horrified, "You didn't know? Forget I said anything." Winnie wasn't going to let him off easily, "What bomb? Please, I want to know. There's nothing worse than being kept in the dark." Raf acquiesced and told the whole story.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Raf simply said, "because he loves you and he didn't want you to worry." That appeased the pretty despatcher but it scared her, too. She remembered Spike asked her, "Can you do this?" _Would I have said yes if I knew about the bomb?_

Billy and Spike spent a lot of time in the basement. They pretty much had the same toys, the only difference was what each country called theirs. If she's taking his role in his absence, she needed to know where everything was. Billy was a fast learner_, very impressive_. Few people could match up with Spike general knowledge of bombs and robotics, Billy was one of them.

When they were done, they all gathered at the briefing room and Billy was finally introduced to Jules and Leah who made her feel welcome. They discussed procedures during a hot call. "And, that ladies and gentlemen concludes our introduction and briefing today. Let's break for lunch, when we get back, its patrol the streets of Toronto-time." Raf couldn't wipe the smile off his face. _Well, I'm always driving around with Spike. Billy is Spike's replacement, therefore, I'm driving around with Billy._ Greg knew what Raf was thinking and he's not in the mood to oblige.

After lunch, Greg divided them into teams, "Jules and Leah (south). Ed and Raf (west side)." Greg burst out laughing when he registered Raf's crest fallen face but he's having too much of a good time.

"Sam and Billy (east)" and just to extend more pain, he called out to Spike. "You, come over here. Or I will demote you to despatch". Everyone laughed and Billy immediately caught on, "Fuck me! What did she see in him?" Everyone laughed harder. Ed decided right there and then that he really, really liked Billy from Down Under.

"Yes, Boss," Spike came over scratching his head.

"You and I, north side."

"Boss?"

"What? You're holiday doesn't start till tomorrow. You're on duty today. The City needs you so pay attention." The Techie put his tongue out at Greg, "You're mean."

And Raf said, "Very mean."


	22. Seven Days of Goodbye

_I don't own Cartoon Network, The three Stooges, Bugs Bunny, just so you know._

**Tissue Alert!**

**Seven Days of Goodbye**

Spike booked an early flight, he wanted as much time with Bridget and Liley as limited time permits. Win, his preferred nickname for his girlfriend, will join him for the last three days of his leave. Bridget was very excited to finally meet the woman who made her 'eternal friend' happy.

_Eternal friend_, Michaelangelo was heart struck the first time he heard Bridget say those words. As intelligent as he was, he could and would never be able to plumb the depth of his Bridget's wisdom and vision. _I wouldn't have thought to coin those words together on my own._ "Eternal friend," he repeated to himself. How many in this lifetime could one possibly deserve?

He reflected on it, he's been honoured to have had Lewis and now, Bridget. If there was one thing he'd learned after losing Lou, it was that friendship extends beyond the physical, and the material. He's learned that he could – now - view the "other side" as if an island somewhere in the Pacific. So he talked to Lewis as if he's just a phone call away. Now, soon, he would have to do the same with Bridget.

The flight was uneventful. The drive over to Bridget Country also uneventful. It seemed that angels have conspired to make this time magical. It's the middle of Autumn. The trees were nearly bare and the road paved with golden leaves. When he reached the end of the drive way, he tried to compose himself but the only thing he managed to do was hope for the best.

Liley was making her usual howling noises, it didn't sound energetic like it used to. It sounded sad. It sounded hollow. The door opened before he reached it, Jeremy was standing sentinel. "Hope the trip was good," he greeted. Spike said it was and asked how Bridget's doing. "She's sleeping. She probably won't wake up for another hour."

He used the time to settle in; he took his travel bag to the guest bedroom, showered and changed. It helped him feel a little more human. He went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, "Jeremy would you like one." The male carer declined the offer, saying that he's had far too much already.

Spike sat next to Liley with his cup of coffee. The Canadian Eskimo dog moved her head onto his lap but didn't move much. He stroked her firmly, as if massaging her. "I'm so sorry, Liley." That was pathetically all he can say but he really meant it. If he could open his heart, he'd show her that it's etched on his heart.

A thought crossed his mind that if I felt like this for a dog, how much more painful would it be if she were human. He caught himself: _where did that come from?_ He surmised that it's his age talking, after all, Ed and Greg were fathers at his age.

Liley seemed to respond to his touch, her ears noticeably perked up and the howling has stopped. Bridget woke up from her slumber in under an hour. Jeremy came to get him. He took a deep breath, worried that she might look like a Rwandan refugee with just skin and bones_. I don't think I'd be able to cope with that._ But when he saw her, she didn't much different from the last time. He silently thanked God.

Bridget has lost her appetite but she still managed to have a bite of this and that and been able to keep them in her. She still got up and about with the aid of a walking frame but she'd do it on my own strength if it was just a trip to the hammock. Jeremy told Spike that she has such a positive attitude that being around her wasn't a chore.

When they were left alone, Spike asked her what she'd like to do. "Let's watch the old movies like we used to." They watched the old "Three Stooges" movies and laughed to their heart's content. Even Liley was happier and mostly sat on top of Daddy.

Morning came. The sun was out and the rays filtered down through the canopy. "Hammock time." Spike cocooned Bridget in her blanket, carried her out, went back to the kitchen and made tea for two. He climbed in the hammock with her and they just held each other close. They just drank in the sunshine; listened to the birds; followed the leaves with their eyes as they fell from the trees. It almost looked like golden rain, she said at one point.

They went back inside before it got too hot. They resumed watching "The Three Stooges" and laughed to their heart's content. When they've all the whole series, they decided on the _Cartoon Network_, they delighted in the old cartoons, Popeye the Sailor Man, Bugs Bunny, and pretty much all of the loonytunes shows.

Jeremy came back for his afternoon shift, when Bridget has to have her medication. Spike took his chance to go out for a run, Liley ran alongside him. Then, he noticed something – Liley's tail was up. She's enjoying it. _How long have you been cooped up at home, baby?_ That was it, Liley needed to run and enjoy the great outdoors! He determined to do this with her as much as he could while he's here.

This was their routine, him and Bridget and Liley for four days. On the fifth day, Winnie joined them. She was a little self-conscious and felt like she was intruding but Bridget was welcoming to her. She was initially envious, not jealous, of Spike's closeness to Bridget. She didn't know what to expect or what she's doing here, in this place full of memories of love and friendship_. It's almost sacrilegious to be here._

When nightfall came, she didn't know where to place herself, Spike solved this for her by offering her the guest bedroom while he slept in the lounge room with Liley.

On the sixth day, Winnie heard Spike and Bridget out in the garden, swinging on the hammock. She debated with herself if she should pretend to be awake or asleep. Awake won the debate. She came out of the bedroom ready for what the day would bring. Spike was just coming back into the house with the tray, "Nice of you to join the living," he said with a smile. He put the tray down and embraced her. She was tentative, Spike looked at her curiously, she pointed outside. "She couldn't mind, at all. Promise."

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"I'll just have coffee." He made her one. "Bridget wants to meet you." But what spike really meant was Bridget wants to have a heart-to-heart with you. He didn't say that though because he didn't want to frighten her. When she finished drinking her coffee, she followed Spike out to the garden. Bridget flashed a warm smile. _She looks like a doll_, she thought.

It must have been pre-arranged because the minute she sat on a bench close to the hammock, Spike excused himself. He's going for a run with Liley.

Bridget started the conversation, mostly about mundane and benign things. Then they talked about what she does at work, outside of work and what she enjoyed doing on her free time. Bridget must have been very good a reading people and in making them feel safe because next she knew, they were talking about love and Spike.

Bridget reached out with her bony hand, hand that used to heal and nurture but now looking frail and injured. Winnie held out hers, "Come here" she said. Winnie found herself lying next to Bridget on the hammock. It frightened her how so small Bridget was under the blanket. She tried not to show her worry. Side by side on the hammock, Bridget asked her how it was going with Spike, she said, it's early days but that she had been in love with him for years. Bridget laughed. "Join the club."

Bridget caressed Winnie's hand and said, "You've no need to worry that I might be a ghost in your relationship. We knew each other when we were 10, lost touched after high school. We met up again in Jamaica, and squeezed a lifetime in three days.

"When we met again here in Thunder Bay, we tried to make it work, it lasted about two months. The times I've had with Spike do not add up to a lifetime, they were just memories of long ago and brief liaisons.

"What Spike and I have is more spiritual than physical. We're two people with intersecting paths. You have no need to fear that I'd be a 'constant presence' in your relationship.

"I hope your path and his would be a convergence. It means moving toward union or uniformity; it means coming together."

Winnie wept, _what can I say?_

Bridget wiped her tears, "Spike cast a big and long shadow. All ask is that you think about it long and hard. Would you mind living under his shadow? He doesn't fall in love easily. He doesn't often go out on a limb. But with you, he did... that's saying a lot."

They were quiet for a long, long time. Winnie followed the movements of the shadow as the morning sun came up overhead, it's time to go in or fry. A pounding on the pavement signalled the return of Liley and her Dad. He was sweaty and happy, obviously enjoying the company of his "daughter." _I better remove the air quotes, it would upset him._

Spike picked up Bridget. They all went inside and watched more cartoons. Winnie didn't feel uneasy any more.

On the seventh day, a gorgeous aristocratic looking Italian woman arrived. It's Bridget's mom, she's come to take her home. "Mom," Spike called out. _He has so many mothers_. No doubt, her own Mom would think the world of him, too.

After the introduction, and coffee, and endless chatter in Italian, it was time for Bridget to leave. She held up a box, "Spike, this is for you. Don't open it til I'm gone." She turned to Liley and they hugged. Spike helped her up, "You promised to be firm with her, I'm holding you to it." Spike again said, "I promise."

She turned to Winnie, "Make sure he keeps his promise." And then she said, "It can get cold under the shadow so make sure you're always able to stay warm." She understood what Bridget meant and that was all that mattered.


	23. Liley Lewis Scarlatti

_This chapter is a montage of daily living – because life is made up of many, ordinary moments._

**Liley Lewis Scarlatti**

Spike, Winnie and Liley arrived home very late Sunday night, grateful that their shifts don't start till 3pm the next day. The drive took 12 hours, stopping to eat, rest, stretch their aching limbs and to let Liley run around.

"Aren't you going to open the box?" Winnie asked the reflective man standing behind her. His response was to pull her closer to his chest and leaned his chin on her shoulder, "When I'm ready." She was beginning to notice some things about Spike she wouldn't have guessed previously. All along she only thought of him as someone who's child-like and excitable. Someone who couldn't wait to open his Christmas present, that given the chance he'd sneak in to have a peek. _He is that and much more. He has a pensive, reflective side to him._

When they reached the outskirts of Toronto, they had a decision to make. Return the rental car now and take a cab home separately or take the rental with them and return it the next day. They decided to return it the next day. It dawned on Winnie that they've just made their first mutual decision together and it brought a smile to her face.

Closer to Toronto, spike asked where she want to be dropped off, "yours or mine?" She wanted so much to be back at Apartment 7 but it wasn't practical, her uniform were at her home so she said hers. In the dark, she detected a disappointment in Spike so she explained in a sort of oblique way that she'd have nothing to wear to work if she went to his.

"That's not a problem, we'll drop by your place you can get whatever you need." She heard herself say, "Why didn't I think of that?" And so that's what they did.

As soon as they arrived at Apartment 7, it was became rather **pronouncedly** obvious that there's a huge amount of electricity in the air, one that fortunately doesn't cause death by electrocution, although it's been known to cause death by cardiac arrest on some hapless individuals with certain physical deficiencies.

_I don't think I trust myself not to rape him_, the thought made her giggle. Spike turned to her and asked what's so funny, she said "nothing". Anyway, spike must have had the same thought because next thing she knew he'd brought out some pillows, blanket and bed sheet. He turned out the middle couch into a bed. "I'm sleeping here, you take my bedroom." He turned her around, pushed her in and called out, "Lock the door."

The next morning, she was woken by Liley's howling she came out of the bedroom in her PJs. "Where's dad?" Spike was nowhere and then she remembered that he might be in the shower. "Come Liley, Dad might be in the shower," she knelt down and hugged the canine.

Sure enough, Spike was in the shower and came out wrapped only in a towel. "Good morning, sunshine," he said. "Good morning, Spike." She still hasn't decided on a term of endearment. _It'll come to me, one day._

Spike went into his bedroom to get a change of clothes and she couldn't help but ogle. "No ogling," he called out, "It's rude." She giggled.

Spike has had his first cup of coffee. Time for a second. "Coffee?" She replied, "Café latte." They enjoyed their coffee in peace listening to music. The Apartment has surround sound_, it's incredible._ She can't get over his place. Everything about is so quirky and fun and intelligent and efficient and clever and wonderful_, just like the owner._

Winnie watched Spike's every move. The way he flexed his fingers, _they're so long._ The way he moved things, _I think I'm obsessed_, this produced another giggle. When she came to her senses, she asked, "Aren't you forgetting something? Or, should I say someone?"

Spike gave him his usual 'clueless' facial expression, she laughed, "Liley. Who's going to mind her while we're both working? She can't stay here by herself. That'd be criminal negligence. Well... almost." She hit a chord.

"Oh, maybe just for today…. until we can get it all sorted… we can take her to work."

"You better clear that with the Boss first."

"Yeah, you're right." He dialled Greg's phone who was pleased to hear his voice, "You sound a lot better." Spike said he (Spike) would sound even better if he (Greg) could do him a big favour. Parker groaned.

"I heard that. You don't even know what I'm going to ask," he said trying his best to sound wounded.

"Ok, what is it?" Parker was floored when Super Geek said, "Can I please take my daughter to work today? I haven't found a place for her. She won't be any trouble."

"When did you have a baby? Who did you get pregnant? Can't be Winnie!"

Spike laughed, "No, she's a Canadian Eskimo dog, I adopted her last year. She's about 18 months old and she's the most beautiful dog on earth."

"God Spike you've gotten into a bad habit of giving me coronary. Ok, just for today. Till you find a sitter for her but if she's any trouble, I'll call the dog pound."

They arrived at work with the most beautiful, all white Canadian Eskimo Dog, full name: Liley Lewis Scarlatti. And they all fell in love with her, especially Jules who thought it nice that she's no longer the smallest member of Team One although not by much.

Liley was well behaved and mostly happy to be patted and to accompany Winnie at the despatcher's desk. But by the end of shift, Liley was a little bit listless. "What's wrong, honey?" It dawned on Spike that he doesn't know his girl as much as he thought. Winnie had the answer, "Liley needs a lot of exercise. She's not meant to sit around all day, it's depressing. We need to find something, somewhere fast.

"I think I know who can help, sit tight."

Winnie called the one person who's always been there for her, "Mom, Spike and I need help. Can we come over tonight after shift? Thanks Mom, give my love to Daddy."

Problem solved! And, Liley's family circle just got bigger!


	24. Double Dating to Sensitivity Training

_Humour! Friendship! Love! These are the ingredients that spice up our life._

_Also, please note some phrases are Australian in origin. Please indulge me. Thank you._

_My goal is to write of the everyday human experience, I hope this continues to resonate with you._

**From Double Dating to Sensitivity Training**

Many things happened during Spike's seven days absence.

The trio of women hit it off like a house on fire. Jules and Leah were happy to have another of their kind on the team who was unpretentious, refreshing and straight-forward. But while Leah enjoyed Billy's quirky nature, Jules bonded with her like super glue.

Sam was jealous of the time his girlfriend was spending with her new BFF. Raf, too, although he reckoned he has no reason to be. The boys decided enough was enough! They didn't like being sidelined so they proposed a double date after shift. Nothing fancy, just a walk in the park, ice cream, that kind of thing. They double dated at the park near Jules' house.

Sam and Raf brought a bottle of wine each. The girls packed the blankets and the nibblies. They carried everything to the park. Once they relaxed the topic of conversation fell on Billy. Jules asked, if she didn't mind telling, where she learned to swear like a marine.

"I grew up in a military Base, actually make that bases, and I've got five older brothers." Jules and Billy high-five each other. "I have four. No wonder we're very similar." Billy asked Jules if she learned to box as a child, she said "affirmative" because her brothers didn't take prisoners. They chuckled merrily.

Sam and Billy compared notes and life stories growing up in military camps. It was amazing how much their lives were very similar. "Are your brothers serving?"

"Yup. One's an Army Medic in Kandahar due for a transfer to Germany. One in Washington, DC, serving as a Military Attache. One, I think, is in the UK training with the SAS." She counted them in her fingers. "Oh, one diver, he's in San Diego training with the U.S Navy. The youngest brother is a RAAF pilot, I believe he's back home at the moment. Bomb disposal was the only one left for me to do."

"So, you didn't really want to do bomb disposal, you only picked it up because it's the only branch of the military not taken?" asked Raf.

"In the beginning. But I like it now. I enjoy the challenge."

"But if you have a choice of a… safer profession, would you leave EOD?"

"Maybe… for a person, yes but I don't think I'd changed anything for a safer option. There's nowhere safe." _For the right person, umm, interesting._

Raf was quiet again, just listening and wondering if there was anything he might have in common with Billy. He's so hopelessly infatuated with her but couldn't seem to find a leg room anywhere. That was until they touched on music.

"Raf sings," said Jules.

"So do you," said Raf.

"So do I," said Billy.

Sam shook his head, "I swear you wouldn't want me….."

They went around sharing their favourite songs and soon realised they all liked one in particular, Nora Jones' "Come Away with Me." Impromptu, they sang it in harmony. At that very moment, Raf felt he connected with Billy_. I'll ask her out before her tour of duty ends, if it's the last thing I do._

The nibblies gone, the wine consumed, the songs were sang, and now they were all feeling restless. Billy stood to limber up, Jules noticed her flexibility. "Did you do gymnastics?" "No, just climbed and jumped down trees with my brothers. We were doing parkour before we knew what it's called."

"What's parkour?" Billy explained it's a physical discipline which focuses on efficient movement around obstacles. "You move through your environment by vaulting, rolling, running, climbing, and jumping. Think James Bond." She gave them a sample of her skills.

Well, they're not SRU if they weren't in on anything daring. Jules learned it quickly because she was a gymnast and found that she thoroughly enjoyed it. Sam did a couple of stunts but Raf had something to prove to the pretty little Billy…..

The next day, Raf came back to SRU HQ with bruised ribs, twisted ankle and a sprained wrist. Ed Lane, Fearless Leader, went ballistic at the rookie. You'd think the Team Leader would have been more sympathetic but no he wasn't, because poor Raf injured himself "learning parkour". After letting off steam, Ed calmed down long enough to get Raf checked out by the SRU medic, he was cleared for "light duties."

It also happened to be one of those quiet days, Greg Parker has his hands full of whinging, whining, non-compliant, bull-headed team members. To get them out of his hair, he organised for Human Resources to arrange a refresher course on sensitivity, and that meant Billy had to go, too.

Sensitivity training involved telling participants what they can or can't, should or shouldn't, say to members of the public, subjects included. It was all about political correctness. Ed and company sat listening to the Trainer bored out of their brains. Billy decided it's time to make it interesting. She raised her hands up, and Ed's eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The Trainer made her first mistake, she acknowledged Billy, "Yes".

"My father taught me to be honest. Honesty is good right?"

"Yes, of course," the Trainer agreed with her, nodded her head, all prim and proper.

"Ok, so, it should be good to tell a scumbag, he's a scumbag. How else is he gonna know he's the scum of the earth if I don't tell him?" Everyone laughed, Sam and Raf were falling off their chair. Billy carried on, "We shouldn't even be discussing this. It's fucking stupid. Pardon my French."

The Trainer tried to get everyone to settle down. "Where are you from?"

"Australia, you know the arse end of the world." The group lost it again.

"Don't they put officers through a sensitivity training in Australia? Surely it's mandatory for Police Officers to be trained in political correctness."

"I'm pretty sure they do," said Billy, "but it doesn't apply to me." Ed explained that Billy was only on TEMPORARY secondment from the Bomb Squad; and that she will not, whilst with SRU deal with members of the public, **at all!** The Trainer was glad to hear and said, in this case, Billy was excused, who couldn't get out of the room fast enough!

"Yes, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am."


	25. Welcome Back Spike So Long Billy

I_'d like to credit all the songwriters and singers mentioned in this chapter. I don't own "What Am I to You?", "Right Here Waiting for You", "Surface of the Sun", "I Knew I Loved you", and lastly "You've got a Friend." The lyrics were obtained from the public domain and used for a non-profit purpose._

_The songs fitted the story just fine. If you could play the song as you read along this chapter, it would be all the more meaningful to you._

**Welcome Back, Spike; So Long, Billy**

Spike's back and Billy's secondment to SRU T1 was over. Of course, both were reasons to celebrate at the Goose although in reality any excuse would do. For the first time ever, the whole Team's attending as couples; that in itself was a cause for celebration. Greg and Marina; Ed and Sophie; Wordy (because he's an honorary member) and Shelly; Sam and Jules; Raf and Billy; Leah and her fireman boyfriend James; and, of course Spike and Winnie.

They were curious to know what's next for Billy, it was with delight she announced her secondment with RCMP was extended for two more years. Raf thought Christmas came early, he and Spike kicked each other under the table with glee. She thanked them for welcoming her and for making her part of their family, Sam made it clear it wasn't out of the kindness of their heart but rather fear of her warrior ways.

It wasn't long before the focus of attention was Spike and Winnie, the newest lovebirds of Team One. "When did it all begin?" Sophie inquired. Winnie said she really didn't know, Spike sort of "grew on her." The Super Geek was quick to say he knew all along, he was rewarded with a gentle slap on the head by Sam. Raf tossed a peanut shell at Geek Boy, "You hold the world record for being the most clueless person in the world."

Shell asked the guys if they had a clue, they all said, "Yes". Winnie refuted this vigorously and said, "No way, I was very discreet." She covered her mouth the minute she realised what she just said. Jules assured her that her secret was safe with them.

Wordy, out of interest, changed the subject back to Billy. "Billy, I hope you don't mind me asking. Are your brothers as tiny as you?" Everyone laughed, Billy laughed the loudest. "No, actually my shortest bro is 5'10 and the tallest 6'2. The oldest is the shortest and it went uphill from there," she said with a cheeky grin.

"I'm small because I was a premmie. Well, that's the theory anyway, unless I have a different father."

"Premmie?" they chorused. "Sorry, that's Aussie. It means premature. I was born at 30 weeks. My childhood was spent going back and forth to the hospital."

"You have such a wicked sense of humour," Marina quipped.

After dinner, Raf went to his car, and came back with a keyboard. Several members of SRU T1 were musically gifted, so tonight, was going to be a night of music. Raf started with Norah Jones' "What Am I to You?" His eyes were on Billy, the rest of them at the table might as well not have been there.

Billy's turn came and she sang Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting for You." They could tell that the last two stanzas were meant for Raf. She sang for him, they were just witnesses - to something beautiful – unfolding and growing.

Greg smiled happily for his family.

Ed Lane chose to sing "Surface of the Sun" to everyone's delight. It was a chance to sing-a-long. Correction, a chance to sing-along **IF** you could sing, otherwise you clapped along. They repeated the chorus three times until on the third they were drumming on the table.

Then, it was Wordy's turn. He chose "I Knew I loved You" by Savage Garden. He told everyone at the table that this was "for Shell" to her embarrassment. No one doubted that every single line of the song was true. Most of them knew their love story, that made it all the more sweet.

The last song of the evening was by Jules, she sang it for everyone, "You've Got a Friend". It didn't matter if they could sing or not to save their lives, they all sang along. **This was their song, it suited them just fine.**

_When you're down and troubled_

_And you need some loving care_

_And nothing, nothing is going right_

_Close your eyes and think of me_

_And soon i will be there_

_To brighten up even your darkest night_

_You just call out my name_

_And you know wherever I am_

_I'll come running to see you again_

_Winter, spring, summer or fall_

_All you have to do is call_

_And I'll be there_

_You've got a friend_

_If the sky above you_

_Grows dark and full of clouds_

_And that old north wind begins to blow_

_Keep your head together_

_And call my name out loud_

_Soon you'll hear me knocking at your door_

_You just call out my name_

_And you know wherever I am_

_I'll come running to see you again_

_Winter, spring, summer or fall_

_All you have to do is call_

_And I'll be there_

_Ain't it good to know that you've got a friend_

_When people can be so cold_

_They'll hurt you and desert you_

_And take your soul if you let them_

_Oh, but don't you let them_

_You just call out my name_

_And you know wherever I am_

_I'll come running to see you again_

_Winter, spring, summer or fall_

_All you have to do is call_

_And I'll be there_

_You've got a friend_

Most of the patrons at the Goose were cops and emergency workers. They knew many people there tonight, they all sang along too. The song was repeated at least three times, **it got louder and more rousing every freakin time it was repeated.**


	26. Angel Boy

**Angel Boy**

They've been in a relationship for three months before Winnie came upon her terms of endearment for Spike. She didn't how it happened, but it came to her one day that she'd call him, _Angel boy_. A tribute to his real name MichaelANGELo and boy, because he's a boy at heart.

Spike called her "Miss Sunshine" even when she's gloomy, suffering from PMS, stressed out, even when she's a bore. She thinks it's for the sake of irony. Angel Boy has a way of making her laugh. When she's stress out, he'd come around with a goofy face and say, "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out." Or, "Did I forget to say I love you?"

And recently this conversation occurred during one of her PMS moments, "Thanks for telling me, Miss Sunshine.

"Told you what?"

"When I walked in the door, you told me the end of the world is near."

"I didn't tell you that!"

"Yes, you did, your face told me."

There's also a serious, responsible, mature side to him. One day, she caught him staring at her … very intently. "Something on my face?"

He smiled, "No, I just thought that if I were to create you myself, I'd make you just the way you are. I wouldn't change a thing." It took her awhile to recover from that.

But Angel Boy was no Angel. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She'd seen him get angry once and it's not pretty for the wall and the mug he happened to pick up. She didn't dare ask what it was about, she and Liley made themselves scarce and waited out the storm. He apologized for the outburst and said, "I'm going out for a walk." He was calmer when he returned, she never did find out what made him very angry. She just thought if she needed to know, he'd have told her.

He has plenty of bad habits; one in particular makes her very cranky. He would change the subject mid conversation if he thought of something, "But Miss Sunshine if I don't tell you _now_ I'd forget." And it would often be some obscure fact he's seen on National Geographic or Natural History Channel. "I'll cancel your subscription!" she threatened him once. He said he's tapped into them without a subscription so she can't cancel it. "That's illegal."

"No, it's not. They don't own the air space; I'm picking up the signal from the air. D'you see any cable connection? No. I'm not getting it from them. Not directly."

Oh, there's one more, she's always the bad parent and he the good to Liley. He liked to take the dog to the vet for her regular checks, but he'd insist he can't when it's time for one of the vaccinations. When she started to notice the pattern, she questioned Spike about it. He said with a straight face, "I don't want Liley to associate me with anything traumatic." She chased him around the apartment. Angel boy fed her cookies and biscotti, and was actually quite horrified when she found them sharing a spoon once eating Gelato.

Angel Boy and Liley became part of the Camden family. They saw her parents nearly every day; dropping off and picking up the canine from her parents' home. Spike has managed to worm him way into her mother's heart. In Winifreda's eyes, Michaelangelo could do no wrong. It got to a point she won't tell her Mom when she's having an argument or disagreement with Angel Boy because she's always on his side or defending him. Spike milked this to his advantage.

It's pretty the same with her Dad, John Camden, who delighted that his only daughter has found a wonderful boyfriend. When she's angry with him, Spike has taken to saying, "I'm wonderful your Dad said so." Winnie has an older and a younger brother, both men were "in awe" of their future brother-in-law. She really didn't stand much of a chance.

One evening, feeling ganged upon by Spike and the Camden clan, she looked down at Liley and said, "Don't tell me you're on his side, too?" By some coincidence, Liley got up and went to Spike's side. She was aghast! And they all had a laugh at her expense.

Overall, their relationship was heavenly bar for one thing - no, make that one person, Natalie. The pretty blond, blue-eyed babe was not over Spike. On one occasion, Nat was the subject of a very heated domestic that ended with her in tears and Angel Boy beside himself with guilt. She's begun to resent Nat for her intrusion, calling at all hours, coming over without invitation and making all sorts of excuses to get Spike to notice her. Angel boy explained he could only control his reaction towards her but not her reaction towards him. "Miss Sunshine, you're being unfair to me. It's not like I'm encouraging it."

It got too much at one point, Angel Boy confided to her Dad. He had no choice. They were picking up Liley together but the tension between them so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Her Dad was a wise man. He never meddled, he left that to Winifreda. He's old fashioned that way. But this required a man's touch so Dad got involved. She was going up and down the swing she used to play on as a child. It's still in the backyard. As a youngster, she often went swinging by herself when upset.

Her Dad came over and gave her a gentle push. This went on for some time then he stopped the swing. "Who's Natalie?"

"Dad?"

"Who's Natalie? Tell me about her." John Camden doesn't ask a lot of questions, but when he does he expected to get an answer.

She told him about Sam and Nat Braddock and the critical incidence that involved Spike and Nat being held hostage and Spike being forced to hack into the Metro Evidence Depot; and she told him about the pretty young woman's persistence over getting Spike's attention. Her Dad next question threw her a little, "Has Spike ever given you any cause to worry?"

"What do you mean Dad?"

"I mean when she calls, does he get up and do her bidding?"

"No, Dad."

"Does he carry on a conversation with her when you're there?

"No, he tells her to call back 'cause I'm there."

"I see, and that's not enough for you?" There was a long pause. "I think you owe him an apology, child."

She did apologise, profusely and of course Angel boy milked this to his advantage. "You're cooking dinner every night this week." At dinner one night, he shared Greg's theory about Natalie "obsession" with him. "I think her pride was dented a bit, on top of her PTSD. I have a suggestion. Maybe we should break up for a while; I'd hook up with her until she gets tired of me. When she moves on, we'll get back together."

She said he was lucky she wasn't holding a knife when he suggested this "ridiculous theory".

"Who said it's just a theory? I'm proposing to actually prove or disprove it." The look on her face caused an eruption of hysteria on Spike's part. "Miss Sunshine, I was teasing." She got a butter knife from the cupboard put it inside his trousers' pocket and said, "Just so you have a reminder of what can potentially happen." And, they had a giggling fit.

When they were done with the giggles, Spike said, "Natalie's not a bad person. I'm sure she's not being malicious; I wouldn't be surprised if she's not even aware of what she's doing. We're her friends. We have to help her through it." The Boss was right. Angel Boy does see the best in people.

Anyway, Angel Boy and the Camden clan fitted well, but _Where do I stand with Momma Scarlatti?_

Good question. She was to find out soon…..


	27. Momma Scarlatti

**Momma Scarlatti**

Their relationship was going strong and healthy in a lot of ways. They haven't moved in together and would probably surprise many people if they were to find out they haven't been intimate intimate. Sure, there's a lot of fun stuff and hanky panky between them but they've decided to wait for the big moment. Angel Boy said that when it does happen there will be no regrets. "No regrets," she echoed.

In the meantime, they've been getting to know each other. They learned very early on that they both love to cook but they can't cook together. They got into each other's nerves because they had very different methods of food preparation. He liked to wash every item as soon as he was done with them. So, it was use, wash, and store away. She, on the other hand, liked to wash everything at once at the end of the cooking process.

She didn't mind the way he did things, but he really gets annoying when he keeps criticising her the way she liked it done. So, they agreed that when it's her turn to cook she'd do at her place; and when it's his turn to cook, he could do it at his or hers. Problem solved!

At a Camden's for dinner one night the topic was raised and so the challenged from Mr and Mrs Camden was, "What would you two do when you set up your home? Have two kitchens?" The only way forward was to find a compromise. It's another of those domestic issues they have to work on but in the meantime… they elected to keep the status quo, it can wait.

One night after dinner, at Apartment 7, Spike had a chat with his Mom via Skype in his bedroom. She thought it cute that he's managed to bring his Mom into the 21st Century. "It's all plug and play," he told her, "even she can manage that."

Mother and son had a brief chat. Then it was on to an endless stream of uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews and nieces. Even the family dog had a brief appearance on camera. Liley was called to appear on camera, too and everyone in Milan waved "Hello." Then, it was back to "Mikey" and his Mom.

Winnie couldn't help but overhear them, well, she really couldn't help it if she tried. She's in the living room watching an old movie and she could still hear them go for it. The duo were speaking in fast and furious Italian, she became worried when she heard her name mentioned. It was Win this and Win that.

They're having a fight, she doesn't like me. Winnie was distraught, _What if she him to choose between her and I would Angel boy pick me? _ It didn't bear thinking about.

It was one time she wished she could understand Italian. She looked at the time; they've been at it for over an hour. Winnie walked over to the door and saw Spike gesticulating, he was like conducting an orchestra. His Mom was the same although looking at their faces, neither seemed angry or upset. Spike glanced at the door he quickly got up and said something in Italian to his Mom. He went to her and brought her in range of the camera; Momma Scarlatti clasped her hands to her chest and said, "Oh, you're beautiful girl."

She said, "Thank you."

She noticed Momma Scarlatti now spoke with heavily accented English but was making an effort to put her at ease, "Is my son treating you good?"

She said, "Yes."

"Good, good. If he do bad to you, you tell me. I tell him to be better." She only met Spike's Mom once; that was at his Dad's funeral. She recalled that her spoken English wasn't quite so heavily laced with the Italian accent back then. But being in Italy and surrounded only by Italian speakers, she adopted back to the language of her youth.

She said something that really blessed her, "You make Mikey very happy." Again, she said, "Thank you."

They spoke for about a quarter of an hour, Spike left them so she didn't feel self-conscious. When Spike re-joined them, it was to show off baby Babycakes to his Mom who was delighted that her son was so clever. She also noticed that Angel Boy didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in front of Momma Scarlatti. _This can only be a good sign._

Another half an hour and they said "Ciao" to each other. _That_ she understood. She heard, "Ti amo." And lastly she asked Spike if he's still saying his prayers.

When the Skyping was done, Spike turned to her and said, "She really likes you."

She couldn't help it, she had to ask, and she had to know. "If she didn't, what would you have done?" "Nothing," he said. "I've always made up my own mind."


	28. The Final Crossroad

_Tissue Alert! A box will do!_

**The Final Crossroad**

The dreaded phone call came one rainy, miserable night. He'd known it was coming for some time, he had maintained a long-distance vigil with Bridget's Mom. Winnie felt it in her bones. A chill she couldn't explain. Yes, it's cold and rainy but this was different.

Her cell phone rang at 1am, she checked the caller, Angel Boy. She knew before she answered that Bridget was gone. The phone closed to her ear, she heard an anguished moan that frightened her. It was guttural, it sounded wounded and sore. "Win," he cried.

She didn't wait, "I'm coming." Win dressed in a hurry, she was at Apartment 7 in 10 minutes.

She found him in a foetal position on his bed, clutching his pillow. She didn't know what to say. _What can I say?_ _Nothing would make it easier!_ She climbed on the bed and hugged him. They were spooned together, she wrapped her arm him and let him cry till he was exhausted. He was sobbing and hiccupping. Liley sensed the tragedy that was unfolding and kept watched from the floor.

When he was all cried out, he went to shower, changed and went online. He stared at the monitor for a long time. "Would you like me to go with you?" He didn't answer, and looked down at his hands. "No, someone has to stay with Liley. I'll go by myself."

He booked his return ticket, packed lightly and called his Boss. He said he was sorry he couldn't be at work and explained why. Greg said it wasn't a problem and if he needed more time, he only needed to call. "Billy's on standby."

He gave Liley and Winnie tight embraces. She wept with him when he said, "I hurt." She never could have imagined that two little words could open such floodgate of tears. When they disentangled from the tight embrace she asked if he was sure he'd rather go alone, he said, he was.

Spike didn't know how he got to Vancouver, let alone the funeral house but got there, he did. Mrs Senna was dressed in black, surrounded by multitudes of family members and friends. He didn't know most of them, but there was someone there he's known from when he was a wee boy, Sis Rebecca. She came over to him and blessed him in Italian and in English. They hugged.

Mrs Senna was supported by her other daughter, Paula. Mom Senna lost her husband 10 years ago and now Bridget, the apple of her eyes. He caught her and Paula's eyes. He moved to be closer to them, making a path among the throng of gathered mourners. They hugged tightly. He didn't trust himself to say anything for fear he might trigger an avalanche of tears. "Thank you for coming," said the young woman, he simply nodded.

When the service started, he found himself seated next to Sis Rebecca. He sensed that she was deliberately, expertly seeking him out. _She's on a mission_. Spike politely smiled at her, determined to be mission impossible.

Three close family members did the eulogy, Paula, who was an exact duplicate of her older sister; her Uncle Ben and their cousin Betty. They all said Bridget would've wanted this to be a happy occasion and that they would only be allowed to say the funniest things about her. And that they did. The crowd laughed in remembrance of funny Bridget, naughty Bridget, and fearless Bridget. He laughed right along with them.

After the funeral, they all gathered as polite societies do, to have tea and coffee. Paula accosted him. She's very much like Bridget so it was a little disconcerting. Not only were they physically alike, they sounded the same, moved and behaved in pretty much the same way. Bridget and Paula used to joke that they were in fact "twins born 12 months apart." And they thought it funny when some people actually did believe them.

"How's my ex future brother in law?" she said. He laughed, he couldn't help it. The Senna women have a decadent sense of humour and they're not afraid to show it.

He was truthful in his answer, "I could be better." Paula nodded and said pretty much the same thing but nothing was going to dampen her enthusiasm for life. Perhaps it's her way of coping, perhaps it's her way of navigating through her pain. He was aware that the siblings lived their lives like real twins losing Bridget must hurt like hell.

Paula pulled him along and they sat under a willow. The memorial park where Bridget was finally laid to rest was exquisite. It was just the resting place for someone who's utterly, utterly beautiful in life. They were quiet for a while. The silence was broken by Paula, "She died happy, I want you to know that. She was not in pain. She had a clear mind. We all said goodbye and the last thing she told me was she really lived her life fully and she lived it without regrets."

"I don't know how Mom and I would cope. It seemed surreal at the moment. I'm sure the reality of it all will hit us at some point."

Spike stayed quiet, anything he says would sound flippant and farcical. So he simply put his arm around Paula to comfort her. "Are you living with your Mom?" It seemed changing the subject, away from Bridget, would somehow ease the pain they feel.

"No, I actually live in Paris. I came home to have time with Bridg and for the Funeral. Mom and I haven't talked about any other arrangement." They chatted some more, when the crowd thinned, they joined the family.

Mrs Senna saw him and held his hands. "How long are you staying in Vancouver?"

"Not long, I have to go back to work."

Mrs Senna said she understood but made him promise not to be a stranger. It struck him that she appeared to have aged in the five months she nursed Bridg. And why not, no mother should have to bury their child.

Sis Rebecca hovered from a distance_, a helicopter Nun_, he thought to himself rather bemusedly. There wasn't really anywhere to run or hide that the little Nun couldn't find him, so he bit the bullet. He approached; his hands inside his trousers' pockets. Sis Rebecca offered her trademark smile, he was instantly disarmed. _God's assassin_, they used to call her in High School.

"Sis Rebecca, so who's minding the school while you're here?"

"Oh, it's in the capable hands of heathens," was her reply. They both laughed. "May I have a word with you?"

Spike didn't show any surprise but he countered with, "What! No preamble? Just like that? Straight for the jugular?"

The Nun hooked her arm around his and said she's running out of time herself and she's best got on to business. They walked around the memorial park. He, counting the pavers they were walking on and she, probably talking with God.

"I do still say my prayers you know?" He said softly.

"Am glad," she said. "What prayers do you say?"

"The prayers I was taught in school."

"Do you stop to talk with Papa Dios?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you tell Him what you feel?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have you heard Him speak to you?"

"That's just it He's good at ignoring me."

"Why do you say that?"

"He keeps killing people I love for one thing."

"Do you think there's a Bearded Old Man up there wielding a big stick and swatting people who love you?"

"It sure feels like it. He hasn't given me any breathing space," Spike was surprised he's weeping. "Why are you here? Why are you hovering over me? Does God just want to rub it in? Well you can tell Him, it sucks."

He sat down on the grass, his head between his legs, weeping his heart out. "It sucks."

Sis Rebecca sat next to him, allowing him to cry himself to exhaustion. When he stopped sniffling and hiccupping, she said, "I'm here because Bridget asked me. She knew you'd be hurting. She wanted me to tell you, you've been one of the beautiful people who's ever graced her life. She had no regrets."

If that was bloody meant to make him feel better, it was just so totally wrong, because all it managed to do was to fucking make him feel bad all the more and he said so. The Nun visibly exhaled. "You were taught in school that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. And do you know how I know that God is with us? I know because of Bridget and you and all the people who haven't been afraid to love and be loved. We are the Incarnated Love of God. Though we don't see Him, we know Him. We feel Him. We touch Him through one another. She wasn't afraid to love you and you weren't afraid to love her. That's how I know."

They were quiet again for a long, long time. Then Sis Rebecca said, "Michaelangelo, remember this, **love costs.** It'll cost us, sometimes it'll costs us our lives; sometimes our dignity; sometimes our passion. Whatever happens, Michaelangelo, do not let fear rule your life. When we love, we don't live to regret whatever the cost."

It was very dark when he left the memorial park, and only because Sis Rebecca said, "Come, we still have a lot of living and loving to do."

Bridget may have crossed the final crossroad but not before leaving him a compass to show the way forward.


	29. Crisis of Faith

**Crisis of Faith**

Spike arrived back from Vancouver to an empty apartment, Win and Liley stayed at her parents' place for a "change of scenery." It worked out well because he, right now, was not in the mood to be with anyone. Alone was fine. Alone with his thoughts to dwell on anything; alone with his feelings to feel whatever he needed to feel.

He's been down this road before. Did he expect it to be easier? This time round, the road to wholeness just seemed longer. _Is there a detour? A short-cut? A by-pass? An overpass? _Whatever game God wanted to play, he wanted no part of it_. I want to get off the fucking train, let me off the train. _He thought about what Sis Rebecca said, sure it all made sense to him. Even as a computer geek and a scientist, he believed in God, the God of his childhood.

He was taught by his parents and his religious teachers that we reap what we sow_. What have I sown? What have I done that You're angry with me? Or is it perhaps You're not busy enough! Is that it? You're bored so You've decided to find someone to pick on, and it happened to be me? I can give you a list of assholes who are scoot-free! I can give you names of people who don't have the right to walk the earth yet they're here. Do you want print outs?_

He ranted and raved at God. _I'm done feeling guilty. I'm done with the crap and the bull-shit about following the Ten Commandments and obeying the rule of men. I'm done. Go, pick on someone else!_

But Michaelangelo Scarlatti didn't stay angry for long. _**What do You want me to do? **_He said more in supplication than in anger. He didn't hear God, not even a bloody thunderclap. Spike was exhausted and he couldn't be bothered with his Greek tragedy. He fell asleep, and only woke up when he felt Liley nudged him with her nose. "Hello Lil, did you miss me?" He kissed the canine but remained prone on the bed. He felt a depression on it when Winnie sat down, "Are you ok?"

"No" was his short answer. Winnie didn't press him and he was grateful. "Come," he scooted over so Winnie can snuggle in. And that's all they did. No one spoke a word; words weren't required in the moment. They only moved when Liley howled, obviously hungry. "I'll go feed her." Win got out of bed and did what she had to do. She has a very bad feeling about this. But she decided to hold her peace and let whatever comes, come.

She made something to eat and brought it to him, Spike saw the food and said he wasn't hungry but "please don't not eat on account of me". Winnie went to the kitchen to eat a helping. Hours passed, when Spike still hasn't come out of the bedroom, she started to fret. But she also knew she had to time this right.

More hours passed, she knocked on his door to alert him that she's coming in. He didn't respond. She tiptoed in. He was lying on his stomach his face to the window on the right, watching the sun go down on the horizon. Winnie sat on the floor and came face to face with him.

"I know you need time and space. I will give you that. But no matter how much I love you, I'm not able to read your mind. If I'm giving you too much space, pull me in. If I'm crowding you, give me a gentle nudge. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah," he swallowed. "I love you, too." They left it at that.

Winnie didn't want to upset her parents so she stayed away from them and called Steph. They exchanged details of their boy issues. There's nothing like good friends, a box of pizza and beer when you're down in the dumps.

"What are you going to do?"

"Good question. I supposed I'll just to play it by ear. See what happens. I can only wait… and not wait… but I'm scared."

Spike and Winnie went back to work and it didn't take a genius to figure out things were not as they were before Spike went to Bridget's funeral. Everyone respected their privacy and left them alone. Jules and Leah, however, made it clear to Winnie that they were only a phone call away.

Winnie continued to mother Liley. Dropping her off at her parents' place and picking her up, who were none the wiser of their situation. Spike was always just busy and "We work different shifts".

Liley went home to her place instead, but occasionally, they'll drop in at Apartment 7 so Liley can say "hello" to Dad. They had limited conversation; limited to "How was your day and I hope tomorrow will be better". Winnie, without fail, went home in tears.

Weeks passed and nothing's changed. Spike remained distant. Greg was worried. While the Techie's focus on the job has not waned; his commitment to SRU still solid as a rock, he was far, far away. And worse of all, he was doing stuff he never used to do! _He's too young to be having a midlife crisis!_

No, Spike wasn't having a midlife crisis. It was worse, he was in rebellion. _No more down the straight and narrow for me. _After work, he'd go to the Goose to drink not that he didn't before, but these days it was a little too frequent. One time, the Manager of the Goose was concerned enough to call Greg, "Your boy's drunk as a skunk, you better come get him." Greg came to get him and threatened rehab if he didn't straightened himself out. Spike stopped just like that but he was still far, far away.

Leslie was worried when her big brother stopped going to the coffee shop; stopped leaving funny messages on her FB wall; and worse of all, stopped calling. Leslie was worried enough that she came over to check up on him. Now, it's a role reversal. She looked after him. Brought him dinner from the coffee shop and took his laundry to the cleaner.

His Team was concerned to a man! So they planned an intervention, "This can't bloody go on," said the Fearless Leader, obviously acquiring some vocabulary or two from Tiny Billy. "Let's organised an intervention disguised as Team building Exercises," suggested Jules. "I'll pick the remote location," offered Sam. "I'll get all our hiking gears and survival kits ready," said Raf. Greg got up to see Commander Holleran, "I'll file the request." Tiny Billy, adopted SRU T1 said, "And I'll tie him to a tree if I have to to bring him back to his senses." Thank God, it didn't come to that.

His mother was worried when he missed three scheduled skypes in a row. A second cousin in Woodbridge was asked to check on him, who reported that Michaelangelo was ok, just busy at work! An international incident was averted but cousin called in reinforcement in the person of the Parish Priest. Spike arrived home one night to find the Priest waiting outside the secure building entrance. He was raised to be respectful so even though he didn't appreciate the appearance of a meddling priest he said, "Hello Father James, how do you do?"

He knew the Priest from when he was a wee boy. Like Sis Rebecca, Father James has been serving in the same Parish for 35 years. He's heard all of Michaelangelo's confession. He once commented to the young genius, which made him chuckle, that he could write a book about him, a best seller, "I'm waiting for you to become rich and famous so I can become rich."

"Come in," said Michaelangelo. He offered the man of God something to drink, they settled on a bottle of beer each. Spike waited for a sermon which didn't come much to his relief. They joked and laughed. Father James reminded him of a time when he was a young altar boy of 12, "Do you remember swapping the wine for apple juice for Communion? You said you wanted to know if the Parishioners will still drink the "Blood of Christ" if it looked like pee?" He said he remembered.

They talked for hours. He didn't know what happened that night but he felt loved. **He felt loved.** He felt the sacrificial love of people around him; of Winnie's patience; of Greg's fatherly affection; of Leslie's care; of his Team's concern; of his cousin's duplicity to cover for him.

He felt the weight of his rebellion drop off. Now, he just felt tired and wished he could be the same person he was. Sis Rebecca's words came back to him, "I know He is real because we are the Incarnated Love of God. We don't see God but we can see Him, and touch Him and know Him through the people we love and love us."

It was late at night; no, it's actually morning now, but he knew someone was waiting for a phone call. "Win." That was all he could manage. Winnie said, "I'm coming." She was at Apartment 7 in 10 minutes.


	30. Climbing Out of the Dark

**Climbing Out of the Dark**

Win arrived at apartment 7 with Liley in tow, barefoot, in an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts she used as sleepwear. She didn't care what time the call came, all that mattered was that Angel Boy made THE call. The first thing she saw was Spike sprawled on the floor on his stomach, she thought the worse. "Oh my God," she dropped on her knees and checked for his pulse. "What are you doing?" he asked as he slowly turned over.

"God, you scared the living daylights out of me," so instead of a hug or a kiss, Spike's first contact with Winnie was a punch on his chest. "You scared me!" and burst into tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't think… I was just so tired." He looked into her eyes, "Please Miss Sunshine, please put me to sleep, I'm very tired."

She practically hauled him to bed. Liley slept on his left and Winnie on his right. _Thank God for king size bed._

It's their day off so Winnie let him sleep in. Angel Boy slept for 10 solid hours – straight through. She didn't want to hover so she took Liley out to the park to run. They stopped by the florist on the way home to brighten the rooms. Spike was still asleep so she tidied up, cooked his favourite pasta, remembering to "use, wash and store away." She didn't want a domestic, not just yet.

It was mid-day when he joined the living, "Hello Miss Sunshine, hello Lil."

"Hello, Angel boy."

"Anything to eat?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." She opened the oven and the aroma of lasagne and garlic bread filled the apartment. "I'm very hungry!" he said. Spike ate for three grown men. _What the…_ she thought shaking her pretty head.

Winnie tucked her legs under her as she folded herself onto the couch, "What do you want to do?" Spike now bloated from too much food joined her on the couch and said, "Vegetate. Watch a movie, your pick." She smiled, happy to have him back. She knew in her heart it would be a long climb out of the dark but that's ok. _I think we're through the worst of the storm._

She went to Spike's DVD collection and picked out the "Sound of Music." When the movie ended, they both didn't want to get up so they switched to an endless marathon of National Geographic. He loved it! She loved that he loved it! Well, to be perfectly honest, she loved it, too! _Who wouldn't?_

She looked at the time, "Gosh, it's late. I've got to go I'm still in my sleepwear from last night." Spike laughed, said he didn't even notice. "Don't go, stay. Please? You can change into one of my shirts. You should leave some clothes here, it's so impractical to drive back and forth just to change," he said in all seriousness. She didn't dare believe it but she thought they've made progress!

She showered and came out wearing his shirt. She looked very, very cute in it. The length was just right for a proper mini skirt, she folded the sleeves to a 3/4th length. Spike picked her up off the floor in a tight hug, "thank you for putting up with me. Two months of hell can't have been easy." They kissed passionately to make up for lost time.

Greg noticed a huge difference the moment he laid eyes on his Techie. The dimples were back. _Well, this is interesting._ But the Boss was a wise man and decided to let Spike do the talking, _if_ there was any talking to be done. Sure enough, "Boss, do you have a minute?"

"For you, any time."

They went in to the briefing room and made themselves comfortable. "Anything in particular you want to discuss?" Spike fidgeted on his seat then looked at his hands, "I just want to say sorry Boss for being an asshole." Parker nodded and smiled. "You don't have to explain, I understand completely. You're a fallen man, corrupted in your mind and soul, you just couldn't help it." Spike laughed, his dimples showing, "thanks Boss." Both men stood and hugged! "Welcome back, son."

Jules was blown away, "Woo, there's a change in the air," when she spotted Spike joking around with Raf. The Techie came over to hug her tightly, "I can't breathe. I can't breathe." When he still won't let go, the Tiny fireball said, "If you don't let go, I promise to shoot you." He let go at once! Then they hugged again, sweetly this time, swaying like a pendulum too. "I missed you," said Jules.

When she reached the dressing room, she told Leah out and "meet a new team mate."

"What new team mate?!" she asked concerned and thought the worse in passing. _Has Spike quit? No way... there was no selection done! No way!_

"Just go see for yourself," Jules said with a smile. Leah hurriedly changed into her uniform to check the "new" team mate. She heard laughters and the tail end of a sentence, "...so that was it."

"What was it?" Leah asked smiling. Spike turned around and flashed two killer dimples, "Hi, Leah."

"Hello stranger." They embraced like long lost friends. "So, you're the brand new team mate. Welcome back."

From the privacy of the ladies, Jules called Billy to tell her the good news! Billy whooped! And nearly blew her head off... she was on a bomb dismantling exercise.

The Techie personally apologised to his Team individually, "There's no need for it", they said, "but it's a cause for celebration". Couples night again soon, it's becoming a tradition.

When he got home that night, he skyped with his Mom; and, the whole street where she lived. It seemed to him that the queue of people who wanted to say "hello" was getting longer every time. No doubt his mother has been acquiring "relatives".

He contacted Leslie via FB, who excitedly said thank God she doesn't have to do his laundry again! He thanked her for all the care she provided and she said, "The pleasure's all mine." She made him promise to come by for coffee and he said, "Try to stop me!"

On his next day off, he visited Sis Rebecca and Father James to thank them for their "intervention."

But there was one more thing to do, in honour of a beautiful woman with a beautiful mind and a beautiful heart and a beautiful soul. He went to his hidden cupboard, retrieved the Box, "It's time. I'm ready."


	31. The Box

**The Box**

Spike turned on the Ipod, it played an endless loop of soulful music. He opened a bottle of red, poured himself a glass. With a contented sigh, he opened the box and emptied its content on the kitchen bench.

He looked at each of them carefully, wondering what it all meant. He recognised a certificate of achievement in Bridget's name.

There's a black pebble... the edges softened by the amount of time it's been handled.

A bird's feather.

A tooth.

A broken arrow. It seemed familiar but he couldn't place where he saw it.

A necklace with a broken chain.

A piece of paper with the lyrics of Jim Croce's "Time in a Bottle".

A plastic ring, one of those free gifts inside a candy packet. He gave this Bridget when they were 10, it was their "engagement ring." He stopped to gather himself, drank of last of the wine in his wine glass and went out for a walk. A very long walk.

The evening was cool, there wasn't a soul out on the street. It was nearly midnight when he returned but he was determined to complete what he started. Bridget didn't do anything for the heck of it, there was always a purpose; a reason. He continued to look at each item with a mixture of dread and interest.

A small vial of sand, he had a feeling…

A golden leaf, dried and crumbly to the touch.

Finally, a letter, at the bottom. He slowly lifted it out. If he had to guess, it's addressed to him. He exhaled deeply and wondered if he should open it. He did! There was no turning back now.

_Autumn of '12_

_Dear Mike,_

_What you have in your possession is my Joy Box. Maybe I should say was my Joy Box. It held everything that meant so much to me. I lived life fully and without regrets, lived it joyfully, thought only to dwell on the good life brings._

_A few of them relates to you as you could probably tell. Our "engagement ring" when we were 10, the certificate of achievement the first time I beat you in a Science Fair when we were 12. The vial of sand from Ocho Rios, Jamaica where we frolicked in the sand and sun burnt ourselves silly._

_The broken arrow I took out of Liley's leg. You saved her life, Mike. She was close to death when I operated on her. Another five minutes and we would have been putting her to sleep. But because you were there, she's alive today. Because you cared, our lives have been blessed by loyalty and beauty._

_The song "Time in a Bottle" was when I knew there will be no one else in my life but you._

"_If I had a box just for wishes_

_And dreams that had never come true_

_The box would be empty except for the memory_

_Of how they were answered by you"_

_It makes no difference that I knew we were not meant for each other, I just knew that I didn't want to settle for second best. There was no point living life like that. It's a choice I made, and I made it freely, willingly, joyfully._

_The tooth was mine. I lost it learning to kick box. It's a remembrance of how tough I am, and how fearless. You should see the teeth the other guy lost!_

_Then there's the bird's feather. No any ordinary bird, mind you. I trekked the interior of the Amazon jungle for that. It's from a Harpy Eagle, one of many threatened avian species. There's only so much I can do, but this feather reminds me why I do what I do. Like you, it's to save lives._

_The necklace with the broken chain was a gift from my mother on my 21st. What price a mother's love? She who raised me to become a warrior chic, who empowered me to be the best I can be, who allowed me to spread my wings, to follow my dreams. She has been the one steadying influence in my life, the one person who brought me countless joys._

_The black pebble has a deep connection with Paula. If I could relive my life, I'd chose her to be my twin again because there's no one else more caring, more generous, more beautiful, more funny, more intuitive._

_Our lives are a mixture of the joyful and the sorrowful we choose what memories we put in our boxes. I choose to pick out only the beautiful, the amazing and the sublime._

_Did you notice the dry leaf? That's what life's like, it's golden but also fragile. Mike, if there's anything I want to leave you it is the legacy of joy. Life's too short not to be celebrated. Come what may._

_Your Eternal Friend,_

_Bridget_


	32. Sixth and Common Sense

_Author's Note: My usual serving of thrill and spills._

**Sixth and Common Sense**

Spike sent Winnie a text message inviting her out to dinner to celebrate their first anniversary. She read the message and was alarmed, she called him back sounding a little worried, "Hey, tomorrow's not our anniversary. Are you confusing me with someone else?"

He laughed and said, "No way I'd confuse you for someone else. You're my one and only. I'm pretty sure it's the first anniversary of the first time you noticed me." She laughed. He liked making up excuses to go out and celebrate, not that it was necessary. "Ok, tomorrow night then," she said. They ended the conversation with the usual I love yous.

But Winnie had a tough night at work. Lying prone on her bed at nine in the morning, she dared not move. The room was spinning. Without standing on them, she could tell her legs were wobbly jellos. Her knees felt weak. It was a scary sensation.

She called Spike, he was coming out of the shower when the phone emitted "Hot call, hot call" in Winnie's voice so he was aware of the caller's identity.

"Hey, Miss Sunshine, what's up?"

Her voice came through hoarse, "Ah, I think I need to go to the doctor, can you take me?"

"What are you feeling?" he asked concerned.

"The room… it's spinning."

"Say no more," he said. "And don't get up on your own… I'll see you soon." He whistled and Liley came running to him, "Let's go see Mom."

Her head was throbbing. Spike told her not to get up but she needed to change. She could hardly change in bed, could she? Her bed was soaked with night sweat and she was wearing a hideous pair of mismatched PJs. Pink top and blue bottom! She stupidly thought if this keeps happening, he'd soon change his mind about her.

She sat up in bed, instantly the world around her spun. She fell back supine_. Can't do it_. She laid in surrender, crying. But she had no tears. _That's odd_, she thought. When she supposed her situation couldn't get any worse, she heard someone in her flat. _Oh no, I'm getting robbed too_.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, and a voice, "Coming in." It took her a moment to realise it was Spike with Liley in tow, "How did you get in?" she asked.

He dug out his set of Swiss Army Knife, "I was told it has many uses." The Techie examined her closely. He crouched down, removed some stray hair off her face. "Tell me, what happened last night?" he said softly.

"Last night I got home late. It was a tough day at the office… I couldn't sleep. I had a glass of wine to help… that's all."

"Did you have water to drink?"

"A glass. At dinner."

"You're mildly dehydrated," he said. "The human body only has to lose 2% of its normal water volume to suffer the effects of dehydration. In mild cases, like yours, you'll be experiencing unexplained tiredness; irritability, not that you're irritable with me; lack of tears when crying; headache; dry mouth; dizziness when standing due to orthostatic hypotension, and in some cases insomnia." _Ortho hypotension? I better look that up…_

He held her hands, "Did I miss any other symptoms?" She wanted to shake her head but afraid it would detach from her neck. "No, all the above."

"It didn't help that you had wine last night, and not enough water. And not resting enough." He touched the tip of her nose, "Wait here, I'll be back."

She could hear him potter in the kitchen, he returned with a glass of home-made remedy for mild dehydration. "Drink that and don't dare move." He winked at her, "Cute PJs by the way." She groaned.

It didn't take long before she started to feel slightly better. The weakness in her knees was gone so she attempted to move her ass off the bed. She held on to a chair when the earth tilted side-ways. Liley howled in concern as she wobbled slightly. She steadied herself before taking another step. In an instant, Spike was at her bedroom door with a scowl. "I told you not to move."

"I need to go to the toilet."

"Next time ask." He aided her to the bathroom and carried the glass of remedy with him. He left her to sort herself out but kept an ear peeled.

Her mobile phone rang while she was in the loo. Spike went to answer it, "Winnie's phone," he said.

"Spike, is that you?" said the voice.

"Yeah it's Spike, how'd you know it's me?"

"I'll always recognise that voice. It's Angelica Delaney, Crown Prosecutor. Remember me?"

The Techie smiled, he had consulted with the Crown Prosecution Office countless times. "I remember you, but wow, you amaze me with your voice recognition skills. I don't have that super power. What's up?"

"Well, I want to speak to Winnie, is she free?"

"Ah, she's getting ready. I'll tell her you called," at the same time his brain kicked into gear. _Why's the Crown Prosecutor calling Winnie? _Good question.

"Tell her to call me. It's urgent. I'm glad SRU assigned her a protective detail, that's good." _Protective detail? _His eyes narrowed_. What the hell is going on? _He didn't correct the wrong assumption, admitting that he wasn't close protection would shut him out. He wanted to be in the loop. Retaining a casual demeanour, he asked the Crown Prosecutor, "Do you have an update for me?"

"Well, I suppose it won't hurt to tell you. The case against Scott Packer now rests on her shoulders alone. The other two witnesses can't attend court hearing next week. One's in the hospital with a broken neck. I was told car accident; apparently, a head-on collision. The other had a skiing accident, slammed into a tree on the downward slope. He's ok but will be in traction for a while."

They chatted some more, mostly SRU stuff. He just finished talking to Angelica Delaney when Winnie came out looking much better. She has changed into a yellow maxi dress, "Who was that?" she asked innocently.

"Angelica Delaney."

"Oh, did she want me to call back?"

"No. Not really. Ready for breakfast?"

"Yeah… I'm hungry." They ate in silence.

She didn't know what happened. But something's changed. Spike was unnervingly quiet but she could hear his brain ticking loudly. The cogs were spinning_. His eyes_, she was reading his eyes. "What's on your mind?"

He looked up, smiled and said, "I think you need fattening up. Come on, eat up and then we're going somewhere."

She nodded minutely, "Where are we going?"

He shook his head side to side. "Eat, no question."

Spike's sixth sense was screaming loudly. It's telling him this woman was in trouble and he better get his ass in gear! The Packer family has clout, money, power and connection. Scott, the only male scion of the media dynasty has been the sole suspect in the murder of his girlfriend, socialite and part-time TV personality Sonia Kruger.

_How did Winnie figure into this? Why hasn't she said anything to me?_ He has so many questions but his first priority was to get her safe and away. He would quarantine her at Apartment 7. She probably won't like it but he's not giving her any choice. When they were done with breakfast, Spike peeped out the window. He scanned the car park below, _There!_ He spotted it. He's seen the same car parked near SRU two days in a row, _A third time is not lucky at all,_ he thought.

"Are we going yet?" she asked.

"You'll be away for a few days," he said. "Pack a few things."

Her eyes widened, _What?_

"No time to explain. Just do it, NOW." The tone was firm. She's never heard him speak like this before. He took a firm grip of her left arm, not hard but firm. "Please," he said. "Trust me."

She did as she was told. She came out of her bedroom with a small suitcase on wheels. Spike swapped her for it, "Here call Georgia, tell her to find another place for a few days. Tell her not to come home."

"Spike, you're scaring me," She said.

"Scared. Scared is good."

"What should I tell her?"

"Tell her the toilet is clogged and it's a mess. Plumber said it'll take a week to fix." She marvelled at him, how his brain could cook up an excuse like that at short notice….

That's exactly what she said, Georgia replied, "Yuck! What did you eat that clogged the toilet?" she asked cheekily.

"Georgia! You're so gross." While she was chatting with her flatmate, Spike left with her suitcase. A minute later he was back. They left the apartment hand in hand. Curiously, Spike drove to a neighbouring unit block to collect her suitcase. "What did you do that for?"

"Someone's on you. If he sees us with a suitcase, he'd assume I'm taking you somewhere. So I tossed your suitcase over the fence." _How does he know these things?_

"Fasten your seat-belt."

Minutes later, she was lost in her own city. They travelled a maze of side streets, car parks, alley ways until he was sure he has lost their tail. She, however, was not convinced the James Bond stuff was necessary. But if she thought Spike was acting paranoid, it wasn't the half of it.

"Give me your phone." She gave it to him. Waiting for the traffic light to change, he fiddled with her phone and his. He handed them back to her and ordered, "Let me know when it's done." She looked at the devices, there were arrows going back and forth between the two.

"Please you tell me what's going on?"

"When you're safe…" was his short answer.

She looked down at the gadgets, "It's done," she said.

He took her sim card out, tossed it out the window. "Spike," she was horrified. "The details of my life… it's in that chip."

He didn't answer. He turned off her phone and said, "I've cloned them. You'll have them all back." She stared at him and wondered with fascination, she's discovering something new about him, _What sort of a man are you?_

Half a City trip later he said, "We're here."


	33. Sanctuary

_Author's Note: As a fan fic writer, I take research seriously. Everything you'll read will be based on the truth. With respect to Spike Scarlatti's anonymity please view a youtube video on this subject: __**Bomb Disposal Exercises at 19 Wing Comox. **_

_Further, you can read about Spike becoming a CSIS consultant in the one-shot story called "Sealed, Never to be Opened." If you haven't read it yet, please do so before starting this. It'll only take less than one minute to read – but it'll add to your enjoyment of this chapter._

_**Enjoy!**_

**Sanctuary**

Spike carried her suitcase up to the second floor apartment. She was deep in thought as they hiked up the stairs. He punched in the entry code, and she heard the familiar soft click. Like always, he let her go through first, the lights came on automatically as soon as she stepped in. The apartment has never failed to amuse her; she just couldn't get over how smart it was. Music instantly filled the room. Josh Groban, singing the anthemic song, "You Raise Me Up."

The coffee-maker made the usual noises, the aroma of freshly grounded coffee causing her to swallow by reflex; the machine programmed to automatically brew a cup of cappuccino for its Master.

Spike disappeared into the bedroom with her suitcase, and came out barefoot. She tried not to pay any attention, but she couldn't help it – she just simply noticed every details about him. He looked nice barefoot and dressed casually in a white T-shirt and white drawstring, ankle-length cotton pants. Her heart skipped a bit.

She heard him asked, "Coffee?"

"The usual, white.. no sugar, she said. He sipped his cappuccino as he programmed the machine to make another for her.

"What, exactly, am I doing here?" she asked, not that she had any objections. But she was curious. They never discussed anything about her moving in with him, even if on a temporary basis.

"We'll have coffee and then we'll talk." When her coffee, white with no sugar, was ready; he served it to her in a plain white ceramic cup and saucer. They drank their caffeine in absolute silence, it threw her a little off balance. _What on earth happened?_ It was all too puzzling.

He finished his cappuccino, she watched him eagle-eyed as he run his finger round the lip of his cup. Finally, he asked, "What's your involvement with the Scott Packer's case?"

Her jaw dropped. "How did you know about that?"

"Anjelica Delaney, she told me."

Winnie twisted the fabric of her dress with her ring finger, an obvious sign of anxiety. "Um, well… About four months ago, Steph invited me to go to this society party. I told her I didn't belong there but she insisted I go. At the party, I found Sonia Kruger in the ladies crying. Her nose was bleeding, her left cheek was swollen. She looked like she was punched in the face. I asked her if there's anything I could do. She said she didn't feel safe and asked if I could stay with her for a while. I stayed."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. Spike gave her a glass of water to drink.

"We sat on the marbled floor in the ladies. She said Scott, her boyfriend was upset and had struck her. I said she should report it to the police. I offered to go with her. She said thank you but she'd rather not. We talked for, ah… maybe, 15 minutes then one of Packer's minder entered the ladies. He said Scott wanted her. She went with him… reluctantly. I sensed she was apprehensive."

Teardrops stained her yellow dress. "I was one of the last to see her alive. I think I could have done more." Spike understood the "I could have done more" sentiment well. He pulled her close to his chest; and she sobbed into his shirt. _The poor thing_, he thought, _has been carrying the weight of guilt that wasn't even hers to carry._

He stroked her hair which she found soothing. "You ok?" Spike felt her head bob up and down. He released her gently, went away to the bathroom to get a box of tissues.

She continued with her story, "That night, I took photos of her. I said in case she changed her mind about not going to the cops, at least, you know, we have evidence of her injuries that night. I took three; the front, left and right side of her face. I showed them to the police the day after her body was found. The Crown Prosecution's Office called and asked if I'd testify as a witness. I said yes. It was the least I could do. I couldn't help her when she was alive but I could at least help get justice for her.

"Angelica said when Sonia's body was found, they couldn't find the murder weapon at the crime scene. She was strangled with something that may have been a necklace. The photos I took…."

Quick to the punchline, Spike said, "She was wearing the necklace that night...good girl," he said, feeling very proud of her. "Can I ask why you didn't tell me any of these?"

"It happened at a time when you were in a dark place and we were hardly talking," she said, not with any accusation but certainly with a degree of sadness.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm here now and I'd make sure that you stay safe." He lightly touched her cheek, "The case against Scott Packer now rest solely on your testimony. The other two witnesses could no longer attend court hearing next week. One's in the hospital with a broken neck, head-on collision. The other had a skiing accident. What are the odds?"

She felt chills go up and down her spine. "Do you think they'll try for me? Is that why you brought me here?"

"I won't lie to you. They would. You supplied the Prosecution solid evidence and your testimony could likely nail Scott Packer. You're the only one standing between him and freedom or him and a 25 year stretch in the slammer."

She has seen first-hand the damage Scott Packer could do with his fist, God only knew what he could do with his henchmen. "I'm a little scared," she said in a little girl's voice; which made her sound vulnerable.

"Scared is good," he reassured her. "Scared make you careful and smart. Come here." He wrapped her again in a protective embrace. But just so he knew for sure, he asked her, "Can you do it? Testify in court?"

Her determined answer was, "I want to, I want to do it."

He cupped her chin and lifted her face so they were eye-to-eye. "I know you want to. What I'm asking is, can you?"

"Yes. I can."

"Angelica was under the impression that you've been assigned a protective detail. No one's been assigned because we didn't know the trouble you're in. I'm gonna speak to the Boss. In the meantime, you'll be in **my** protective custody til a formal arrangement can be made. It means no jogging, no walking on your own, no shopping, no calling friends. And til we can move you to a safe house, you'll stay with me. OK? Clear?" She nodded. She felt safe already.

"Will they go after my family?"

Spike gave her an honest-to-goodness answer, "Depending on how desperate they are, they might." She gasped.

"I won't lie to you. We can't protect everyone 24/7. But I'll see what I can do, ok?" She exhaled, not realising she has been holding her breath for some time.

They stood fixed to the ground, locked in an embrace. She became aware of him massaging her back. Her muscles were so tight they were starting to hurt. She became aware Josh Groban was no longer singing; instead Savage Garden was. _Truly, Madly, Deeply_. He must have become aware of it, too, for he led them into a gentle sway with the music. When the song ended he said with a shade of reluctance, "I can hold you forever but I've got work to do." He made for his phone and dialed a number.

She remained in the kitchen, drank her now very tepid coffee. She took one sip, _yuck!_ She made a face, unfortunately just as he turned to see her do it. He smiled broadly.

He continued to speak quietly on the phone as he paced the living room floor. Occasionally he'd glance at her which; even after being together six months, not counting the two months he was in darkness; could still made her feel as if butterflies were fluttering in her tummy. Minutes later, he came over and gave her the phone, "Anjelica." Then it was her turn to speak quietly, pace the living room and occasionally glance at Spike.

When she was done talking to the Prosecutor, he gave her back her cellphone. He had put in a new SIM card, transferred the cloned information to it via Blue tooth, sent a group message to everyone in her contact list advising of her new phone number followed by a request not to share the information with anyone. "If it doesn't display the caller ID, don't answer." She nodded.

"Did you bring your laptop with you?" She nodded. "Let's go get it." He led her to the bedroom to retrieve the device. They returned to the kitchen bench. He powered it up, "Is it password protected?"

"It is." He turned it around so she could type it in, which was very lucky because the password was "1h3artsp1k3" which was essentially Geek-speak for "I love Spike."

He got her to log into her Face book account then he disabled it. She was mortified, "How will my friends know…. oh!"

"Exactly." He did the same to her Twitter account. "Strictly **NO** social media."

That done, he said. "I'm off to HQ. Make yourself at home. Use my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." She felt terrible and it showed in her face.

"Make yourself something to eat." He kissed her on the lips lightly and hurried off. She really didn't want him to go.

Somewhere in Rosedale, in the Packer estate, Scott was going ape-shit. His devilishly handsome, chiseled face was hard as temper flared like fireworks. He couldn't believe the idiots he assigned to mark Winnie had lost her. _Morons!_ "I want her found. NOW!"

At HQ, Spike had a closed door huddle with Sgt Greg Parker and Officer Ed Lane. They formulated a contingency plan but agreed that at some point they'd have to hand over the job of protecting Winnie to RCMP Witness Protection staff. Ed Lane has an issue with it; he didn't like relinquishing control to external forces. Parker and Spike both have misgivings about it, too. But protocol was protocol; SRU could hardly be expected to watch over everyone.

That done, he went to the firing range for target practice. For the next half hour, it was just him and the paper target. As a shooter, he preferred the Weaver stance, the two-handed technique in which the dominant hand holds the handgun while the support hand wraps around the dominant hand.

Noise canceling earphones on, goggles on; he was set and ready. He held the MP5 on his right hand, finger on the trigger. He inhaled, raised his arms and assumed the position. His diaphragm held his breath. The right arm's elbow nearly straight while the support elbow was bent straight down. He positioned his feet in a walking stance, with the off-side foot ahead of the strong-side foot.

Being right-handed, his right foot angled out to approximately forty-five degrees to the side and to the rear at shoulder length. His upper torso leaned forward at the hips, the shoulders just over his forward foot. He then fired before exhaling.

He scored 90%. Not bad considering he's been off the firing range for months since his surgery_. _He intended to score 95% tomorrow; 97% after that; and he didn't plan to miss if someone so much as touch Miss Camden's hair.

After a severe dressing down from their master, the thugs went off. They had no idea where to begin looking for Winnie. They could hardly go to the police to make inquiries or dare watch the SRU HQ car park where she worked, that would be suicidal. But they have a photo of Spike from his latest visit to Winnie. They could ask around. They surmised that as plans go, _If they could get him, they could get to Winnie!_

Winnie found herself sequestered in Spike's apartment and left with very strict instruction not to go out. _Great._ She walked around inspecting every nook and cranny. Even though she's been here often, she only just realised that there was nothing, absolutely nothing on display except for a framed photo of his Mom. She smiled as she examined the photograph, _They have the same soft facial features and same soft brown eyes._

She found stacks of boxes in one corner of the living room. She stood over them, feet apart, hand on her chin. She opened one of them to find a treasure trove of DVDs. There were so many to choose from, eventually she settled on the classic chick flick, Roman Holiday. _Can't go wrong with Audrey Hepburn_.

She slid open the lid of a low level storage unit underneath the TV screen and popped the DVD in the player. That done, she sat on the middle couch facing the wall, the screen came down. But… _How do I make it show the movie? Where's the remote?_ She tried to think like Spike. _He'd want the remote close by,_ she thought. She observed her Dad always hid the control under the cushions_. Maybe it's there_. She lifted the cushion and there it was. BUT there's only one, there used to be two; one for the TV and the other for the DVD player. She studied the remote_, All-in-one_. "So… it controls both."

She experimented. She pressed buttons, but no matter what she pressed all it seemed to do was jump from channel to channel and to white noises. She gave up trying when her blood pressure rose to dangerous levels.

Bored to tears, she step out to the small balcony and found Liley's food and water bowl, it made her wish she was home with her; instead of being at her Mom and Dad's. _Perhaps I should call them?_ She was dissuaded by the very idea that she could potentially cause them undue stress and worry.

_I should go to sleep instead_. She went to the bedroom and was about to climb into bed when the CSIS-issued high tech computer came to life. Slightly freaked out, she grabbed a pillow, the quilt and Officer Teddy from her suitcase and left the room quick smart. She checked the time, three pm. It's been three hours since Spike left, she laid on the couch and wished he'd come home soon.

Unwilling to succumb to her boredom, she checked out his book selection. His library was a massive wall, rows upon rows stacked all the way up to the ceiling. The first five rows were technical and research materials. _Catalysis in Organic Chemistry, A Comprehensive Treatise on Inorganic and Theoretical Chemistry Vol 1 to 16_. Her eyes teared up just reading the book titles.

The next two rows above were about computer hacking.

The next two above that were about robotics.

The tenth row was about guns, ballistics and trajectory.

She craned her neck to see what's on the 11th row but gave up.

Finally, she found some comic books. She took a handful to the coffee table, sat on the floor and perused them one by one. Two hours went by. _Gosh,I should make something to eat_. She returned the comic books where she found them and hoped they weren't arranged in any particular order.

She padded to the kitchen, searched the fridge and the cupboard and found all she needed to make a vegetarian curry. She even found basmati rice in a tin. _Great! _Soon the apartment filled with the aroma of curry spices, the smell wafted to the hallway. Having skipped lunch earlier, she was now very hungry. Unsure when Spike might return, she decided to eat dinner at six by her lonesome if he's not back by then.

_Beethoven 's Moonlight Sonata _came on… she picked up Officer Teddy, closed her eyes, hugged the bear close and they waltzed around the living room. And that's how he found her. Spike watched in amusement as she danced with the bear, barefoot in her yellow sundress. When she opened her eyes she found him standing ramrod straight in uniform, his arms across his chest, amusing himself with the sight of her dancing with Teddy. "So this is what you get up to?"

She turned into the colour of beetroot, "How long have you been..? I didn't hear the door click."

With a twinkle in his eyes, he came near, took Teddy and tossed him/it across the room, "I'm a little jealous of it. May I have this dance?" She could hardly decline so they danced to _Schubert's Serenade._

When the music ended, he complimented her for her cooking, "You haven't even tried it yet."

"You can tell when something is good by its aroma," he said.

He let her go and went to the bathroom. She heard the shower and wondered why he was in uniform. He came out wrapped only in a towel. It was bad form to ogle but she could never resist.

He came out dressed in plain white T-shirt, tucked inside a 3/4th length cargo pants. He messed his wet hair with his hands as if he couldn't care less to comb it. Giddy and besotted, she thought, he looked good even with unkempt hair. _Heck, he'd look good in a potato sack_.

"So, what's for dinner?"

"Vegetable curry and basmati rice."

"A woman after my own heart."

She laughed at the compliment, "Shall we eat? I'm hungry."

"So am I." He helped her set the table for two; disappeared into the second bedroom, and came out with a candelabra. As candle lights flickered, he went to a hidden panel to turn off the lights in the living area. They enjoyed a sumptuous dinner and happy, relaxed conversations but unfortunately, even good things must end. "It's late," he said. "I need to check something."

She knew he was headed to the bedroom so she stopped him. "Angel Boy, if it's all the same to you, I'd sleep on the couch." He thought about it, "OK." He moved to the middle couch, opened it up and out and it became a double bed. Underneath it was a storage unit. He pulled out a bed sheet, quilt and two pillows.

She collected the stuff she took out of his room and walked with him to his bedroom. He sat in front of his computer and waved her forward. There was only one chair so he sat her down on his lap. They watched road traffic and parked cars, "That's outside," she said in disbelief. "Are you allowed to do this?"

"U hum…. " He pointed out each segments. "Hallway downstairs. Hallway outside Apartment 7. Car park. Car park next door to the left. Car park next door to the right. Car park across. Side street. Back street. Main road. It pings the cars' registration number. When a flagged plate number appears, it will report it to SRU. If it has terrorist connections, however remote or vague, it will alert CSIS."

"CSIS?"

"I consult with them."

"With CSIS?" Her eyes ballooned to the size of a good cherry tomato. He pinched her cheeks, "Is it that surprising?"

"No, but when do you have the time?" Super Geek didn't answer.

Her eyes fell on a small framed photo of a man in a bomb suit. "You?"

"U hum"

"When was it taken?" He shrugged, "Between February and March this year… the time I was away for two weeks."

"That's when you went to bomb disposal exercises at 19 Wing Comox."

"See I knew it, you've been keeping an eye on me," he teased. She smacked his arms. "No, silly, I submitted your leave form to Personnel, remember? Oh, and I watched it on youtube. That's how I figured out why you're never in the news and why SRU doesn't have a picture of you."

He smiled and changed the topic, "How are you?" he asked as his hand caressed her arm.

"I'm good. And you?"

"I'm good but I'll feel better if you learn Morse Code."

"Morse Code? Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm not." He got her off him and they went to his library. He found the reference book on the 11th row. "Sit down," he ordered as he went to the hidden panel again, this time the lights in the living area came back to life.

"You'll never know when it might come in handy. If you're in trouble and you have no way to call, you can always ask for help using Morse code with a mirror, a flashlight...basically anything."

"You're assuming people would know what I'm saying. You're probably the only one in the entire city who still knows Morse code."

He laughed, "Thanks for your high regard of me, but you'll be surprised how many cub scouts, boy and girl scouts, people in the military and the police who know it.

"Learning Morse Code is like learning another language. Like when I hear Italian my brain automatically picks it up. It's the same with codes. I look at combinations of letters and words… and I can pretty much pick up what kind of code it is. But that comes with practice and dedicated learning."

"But... "

"Humour me, please. If you don't ever use it, you've at least learned something new." How could she refuse the pleading brown eyes? So she said, "Yeah, ok."

He smiled, "We begin tomorrow morning." _Oh dear!_


	34. The Hunt for Michaelangelo Scarlatti

_Author's Note: I beg you __**NOT**__ to skip the boring bits. The mid-section of this chapter may be boring. But __**please**_ _bear with me. We're dealing with Spike here so that's just the way it goes. The latter half of the chapter will be fast and furious so please read while seated. _

_The reference to Echelon II originated with the multi-chapter fan fic called "Weapons of Mass Destruction." I encourage you to read it, if you haven't already, because several characters from that story will be featured in the next few chapters._

_I'd like to thank you all for your support, reviews, kind words and encouragement. _

**The Hunt for Michaelangelo Scarlatti**

Winnie opened her eyes and was surprised she felt human. _Wow, I slept well_. She didn't think she'd wake up rested considering how much she was panicking about learning Morse code. She failed to see how on God's earth she'd remember the patterns.

The wall clock announced the time, six am. The music was still going, this time an Italian aria, _Such eclectic musical taste_. She got up, folded away her bedding and helped herself to a cup of white coffee, no sugar. She was surprised to see Spike coming out of the shower and already ready for work. "Hey," she said.

"Hey" he replied back as he laced up his boots. She was confused. He came home in uniform, yet he's going to work in civilian attire but in his work boots. She was tempted to ask but he must have read her mind, "I'm goin' to the laundromat. Do you have anything you want me to take?"

"Ah... nope… " Then on second thought, she hastily asked, "Yeah... um do I get them back tonight?"

"U hum."

"In that case..." She put two articles in a plastic bag and gave it to him.

"Before I go, I'll set you up with a Morse tutorial." He turned on her laptop, she put in her password then he attached a USB stick to it and installed a software for learning Morse code. While waiting for the computer's brain to load it, Spike moved about the kitchen effortlessly to make breakfast for them; at the same time explaining how to learn the code. He was multitasking while her brain was having difficulty getting past how gorgeous he was so early in the morning, but she did try to be attentive.

He reached for two bowls, and gave her one. "There's only one key to code proficiency. Copying code must be a thought-free process. It means when you hear a character, you should know, without thinking, what it is. It should be a reflex. In fact, copying more than 10 words per minute (wpm) can only be done by reflex. Above that speed, thought processes are too slow to succeed. Needless to say, slow coding is deadly."

He took out two spoons from the drawer and gave her one. "Most people are told to memorize the characters then build up their speed. When you do it this way, you acquire a "look up table" mentality, comparing each character you hear with those in the look up table until you find a match. This process shuts down from overload at about 10 wpm. That's why people experience a plateau at 10 wpm, and don't see any progress for weeks or months."

He set five boxes of different cereals on the kitchen bench. "Those who go beyond 10 wpm do so because, through constant practice, they begin to copy code by reflex instead of by thought. Code training should bypass the look up-table phase and begin by building copying proficiency as a reflex. This was recognized in the 1930s by the German psychologist Ludwig Koch, who devised the most efficient method known for Morse training." He paused, checking she was still following. She didn't fool him. He smiled. "I'm prattling on, right?"

She smiled back thinking, _Prattle on. I'm loving it even if I'm not understanding any of it._

"Would you prefer hot breakfast to cereal?"

"No, cereal is fine." She went for the Coco Pops.

He put a bottle of light milk and a carton of full-cream milk on the kitchen bench. "Koch's method is simple, it's about building reflexes. Here's how it works…" He glanced at the laptop to check it was done downloading. The computer was ready. He poured full cream milk into his all bran cereal. She poured light milk into hers.

"You start out by setting up the computer, like so," he fiddled with it, "to send you Morse characters at 20 wpm. Get out your paper and pencil and have the computer start sending – for your first session, only two characters. That's right, only two characters. Copy on paper for five minutes, then stop the machine and compare what you copied with what the machine sent. Count characters and calculate your percentage of correct copy. And then you keep building it up until you know all the characters by reflex."

He looked at her, smiled encouragingly and said, "Not that hard now, huh." She smiled back, _Whatever_.

He ate quickly then he was off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He shouldered a holdall full of laundry, "Don't wait up for me. I'll be late home." He brushed her lips with his.

The two thugs spent hours wondering how to find the man in the photo. They could Goggle him if they knew his name which they didn't. The only thing they knew for certain was Spike's motor vehicle plate number. One of them had the idea to check with the Ministry of Transportation on the pretext that they were buying his car. "We'll tell them we wanna make sure the dude owns the car – that it's legit." Brilliant idea! They were pleased with themselves.

Spike decided not to drive his car to work. He knew it's been compromised. He went to the laundromat on foot, the owner being a family friend and was by now used to Spike taking his laundry outside of business hour. "Seven in the morning, bloody hell, Mikey." The middle-aged Italian woman said in jest. He repaid her with dimpled smile.

He hailed a cab to work. He figured it won't be long before shits hit the fan and he was well braced for it; so it didn't surprised him when at 9:15 am, an alert was received at the CSIS' CRIB (Communication, Reconnaissance and Information Bullpen) that a "hit" was made on a certain number plate, the one issued to Maxwell Scarpatti.

Before Spike agreed to sign on as a "consultant" to the intelligence agency he had one condition, on top of a generous stipend of course. The condition was that his anonymity must be protected at all cost. He asked for his vehicle's plate number to be made out to a fictional character created by CSIS. This forward thinking strategy saved him. The minute an inquiry was made on the vehicle at MOT, it sent a signal to CSIS. The Agency in turn forwarded the alert to Spike. Now he knew without a doubt they were on his tail.

Apartment 7, although his own, was registered in a company name; which nominated another company as Trustee. The layer upon layer of ownership made it difficult to tie the property to him. He never thought of this type of precaution until he was abducted by crooks and made to hack security at the Metro Evidence Depot so they could steal 20 kilograms of uncut heroine scheduled for destruction. Then there was also the incidence over Echelon II, but that's another long story.

He was reading the alert from CSIS when Leah thumped him lightly on the shoulder, "Hey, Spike. How's Win?"

"She's good. She's bored but the hearing is Thursday next week…. six more days. You guys should visit. She needs company."

"Oh," she said, "You're not company enough? They laughed and gossiped some more, then the Techie asked, "Constable Kearns, would you like to shoot with me?"

"Sure." They walked to the gun cage and selected their favourite weapons. Sgt Parker watched from a distance and observed that his boy has been more than keen to practice target shooting lately. _Um mm_….

The thugs went away from MOT with a fictitious name, fictitious date of birth, and a non-existent address. In all, they spent three hours following up a false trail. Scott Packer called to abuse them, ending it with a threat to get them slit if Winnie wasn't found before Trial date.

They concluded that the only way to find Spike was to clock him at SRU HQ so Fat and thin sat in the car under the tree across HQ. The Geek with combat skills spotted them via a closed circuit camera that scanned the surroundings at SRU. He smiled, _Game on_.

He'll have to be very, very careful finding his way home or he'll lead them straight to Winnie. _That can't happen_. It was nearly lunch, he called to check up on her.

Win had heart palpitations when Jack of Sesame Street started singing

_**A, You're adorable . . .**_

_**B, You're so beautiful . . .**_

_**C, You're a cutie full of charms . . .**_

_**D, You're a darling and . . .**_

_**E, You're exciting . . .**_

_**F, You're a feather in my arms**_

She smiled before she answered. "Hello?"

"Do you like my song choice?"

"It's cute," she said clearly delighted.

"Is everything ok?"

"Yeah."

"You miss me, don't you? Come on, say it, you miss me," he teased.

She laughed, "Go away. I'm learning Morse code."

"See you soon."

"Yeah… ah… please don't be too late."

"See, I know it, you miss me." Then he hanged up.

Throughout the day, he monitored Fat and Thin. He's certain the guys were feeling the pain now. Hungry, probably dehydrated; and most likely feeling very stressed. He let them stew.

Since he didn't drive to work, Spike called a Taxi company. He asked for a specific guy, one he trusted and who used to be copper until he was injured in the line of duty. At 5pm, he left the building in white T-shirt, white drawstring cotton pants and a pair of loafers; carrying with him a reversible canvas bag.

"Hey, Barry, how are you?" he said as he slid into the passenger seat.

"Good, Spikey. Long time, no see. Your car in the garage?"

"Nope. See that car over there with two good-looking thugs," he said in sarcasm, "They're after me. They've been on stag for 10 hours. I need to lose them."

"No problemo, leave it with me." Barry stepped on it and the two thugs followed. After a few minutes, they were lost in their own city. The former undercover detective turned right, left and circled around every available avenues while he and Michaelangelo enjoyed a good catching up.

Barry lost their tail 10 minutes into the chase, nevertheless Spike asked Barry to drive all the way to his mother's old house which they hadn't owned for over a year. That's in case the thugs had in mind to question Barry; the former cop wouldn't know where he really lived.

He paid Barry the full fare plus a hefty tip for "saving my ass." He made it seemed like he still live there by going down the garden path. Then he called a different Taxi company. He walked 300 meters to a new extraction point

One point for Scarlatti, nil for Fat and Thin.


	35. Spike and Winnie's Night and Day Out

**Spike and Winnie Night and Day Out**

Spike instructed the cab driver to let him off near the dry cleaner; he paid his fare with the intention of walking the rest of the way home. The second his face graced the window pane, Signora Elisabetta, the long-time owner and family friend beamed widely at him. He was somewhat bewildered at the reception since it's seven in the evening and the shop has closed for business; when he's this late collecting his laundry, the Italian matron was usually cranky at him.

She unlocked the door to let him in, "Buona notte," he said in greetings, hugging the laundress.

"Buona notte," she replied in return. She pulled him to the counter with unbridled enthusiasm, "Michaelangelo, sono entusiasta di incontrare la tua ragazza."

He was taken aback, _How did she know I've got a girlfriend?_

She gave him the eye, followed by a scowl. Thinking he was going to deny it, she went round the counter and waved a yellow sundress at him, "The dress."

Spike smiled, "I'll bring her to the football (soccer) game, so you can get to meet her." She folded the dress neatly and put it on top of the holdall. "She's staying with you?"

He decided to be forthcoming, "Yeah, just for a few days. Then she goes back to her place."

"È necessario alimentare il vostro amico, lei è troppo magra."

He laughed, "I feed her well enough. She's just naturally skinny." They chatted some more, then she affectionately and unceremoniously shooed him out of her shop, "Ok, addio."

"Grazie," he said laughing. He felt no sense of urgency so he walked leisurely the rest of the way home.

Winnie was in the middle of the living floor, doing _Naukasana_, a common yoga posture. Her upper body and legs were raised to an angle of 30 degrees; breathing normally, she held this position for 30-40 seconds then relaxed. With her eyes closed, she didn't know Spike was home until she heard the coffee-maker kicked into life. She opened her eyes to find Spike standing over her, smiling.

"Hey," she said. He gave her a hand and pulled her up, "You're light as a feather."

He went to the fridge hunting for something to eat and found a bowl of salad.

"You've not had dinner yet?" she inquired as she checked the wall clock, half past eight.

"Nope. What about you? Did you have anything to eat?"

"Nope," she replied, his brows knitted, "Why not?"

"I don't have an appetite."

"That's not good," he said as he munched on rabbit food.

"Spike, do you think we can go out for a little bit? I'm pretty sure it's quite safe to walk around now. It's late." He felt sorry for her. She's been cooped up in the apartment for two days. Maybe it was foolish but he agreed to take her out for a stroll. She clasped her hands and kissed him in excitement, "I'll get ready. Thank you. Thank you so much."

He chewed his green leafy vegetables, wondering what on earth he got himself into. He should have made up an excuse and said he's tired, be selfish in that way. But seeing how unhappy she was becoming, he simply has to take a chance.

Winnie came out attired in a white short-sleeved, high-collared, button up shirt; black ankle-length trousers and black flats. She looped a scarf in soft fuchsia around her neck. He smiled at the vision of beautiful simplicity.

He hated to make her wait, but there's something he must do before they walk out the door. "I'll shower and then we'll go."

To pass the time, she trawled the Net and came upon a news feature about the infamous millionaire playboy Scott Packer. She read a portion of the article, "The Packer's legal team announced that they are quietly confident their client has no case to answer for and that eventually all charges would be dropped." She felt her throat constrict.

"Ready?" She looked up to see a casually dressed Spike in light blue polo shirt, denim pants and canvas shoes. She walked over to him and hooked an arm around his. "Ready," she said.

They walked out of the building, strolling slowly, enjoying the stillness of the night. She leaned close to him, finding comfort in the hardness of his bicep. He looked at her and felt a protectiveness he didn't think he possessed. They walked until they reached a small suburban park; a green oasis in a sea of residences and buildings and car parks. He stretched out on the grass, his hands tucked under his head, he stared at the darkened sky, she took his lead and did the same.

He recited from memory of his childhood a rhyme,

"Star light, star bright.

The first star I see tonight.

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish, I wish tonight.

"What do you wish for?" she asked.

He reached his hand out to her; she responded and intertwined her fingers with his. "I wished for you," he said. Spike lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, his eyes never straying from her own brown eyes. It was the moment she knew that if the price for finding love was to face life and death head-on then so be it.

Evenings were becoming more and more of a challenge. The intense sexual energy they generated for each other could literally power the apartment. Winnie was in a permanent state of war within herself. Spike, on the other hand, had no such issues. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to devour this woman. The only thing stopping him was his sense of decency. He didn't want to take advantage of her situation and her vulnerability.

Tonight, as with last night and the nights before that, it was a chaste "Good night, sweet dreams" between the two of them. Winnie went to bed wrestling with her desires. So did Spike, with the addition in his case of being physically in pain. "Bloody torture," he murmured to himself.

In the privacy of his room, sleep eluded him. He accepted defeat after an hour of tossing and turning which only served to exhaust him more than if he just stayed up. He gingerly walked across to his library to find Winnie wide awake, herself struggling with sleeplessness.

"Want company?" he asked. To his surprise, she replied by tapping her pencil on the pad. Impressed with her accomplishment, he pulled her off her feet and lifted her up, "Good girl." He felt a personal sense of achievement.

When he put her down, he went to the fridge, tapped a word using a fork on the marble kitchen bench. She listened intently and shook her head. "Again," she said.

He tapped it again. She shook her head and admitted, "I don't know the first letter."

"W for wine" he said. She tapped the answer: "Yes."

He brought over a bottle of red and two glass flutes. Then he selected a book, a tome with the boring title, _Social Engineering: The Art of Human Hacking_. He sped read through it a couple of years ago so hoped it would send him to oblivion the second time around, he didn't count on it still being a compelling read. They were like two college kids sitting side by side on the sofa bed; one studying Morse code and the other refreshing himself on the art of human hacking.

Eventually, with the effect of wine and exhaustion, Winnie went to slumber land. She fell asleep curled up with her laptop. He removed the gadget and covered her with a blanket. He noticed she had Officer Teddy in the crook of her arm. He too found sleep when he got to page 220.

It was the sunlight flooding from the balcony that woke her up. The wall clock said it's nearly nine in the morning. She turned to look at Spike and giggled at the sight of him sleeping with the open book resting on his face. "Poor thing." She took it away, he didn't stir. She felt a strong and sudden urge to kiss him. Spike turned over and pinned her down.

She asked Spike, "What day is it?"

"Sunday," he mumbled in reply.

"The hearing is on Thursday." _Five more days and I'm free._ But something nagged her, "Spike, I'm worried."

"Why?" He felt for her hand, squeezed it tenderly.

"I read a news article online. Packer's legal team are confident they could get the charges dropped. What if…"

He kissed her hand. His lips brushing on her skin gave her the tingles. "It's just tactics. They don't want to look defeated. Don't worry. Anjelica said with your photographic evidence and your testimony, she could put him away for life."

"Will you be at the hearing?"

"If I'm not working you can expect me to be there. Witness Protection will take over from me at some point." She stiffened, "When?"

"May be the morning of the Trial, honestly, I've yet to receive any details from the Crown Prosecutor's Office. Don't worry, everything will be fine." She felt reassured.

Sensing Spike's brain ticking, she asked, "What's on your mind?"

He smiled, "I was just thinking… would you like to go out?"

She couldn't believe what she just heard, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, but you have to be disguised as a nun." She was stunned then she had a laughing fit. It was so totally unexpected, so left-of-centre that it threw her off balance.

"A nun?" she said disbelieving. "Where are we gonna find a habit?"

"I have one in my closet."

"What?!"

He turned to face her, "Before you start thinking the worse of me, it was left here by my cousin, Sr Susana. She's gone back to Italy." She closely scrutinised his face, his eyes were serious, "Well?" he said.

"Ok…but it's not mortal sin right? To impersonate a nun?" This time they both laugh. His reply was, "Nothing a confession to Father James won't fix."

In the end, she did wear the religious habit. Spike even assisted her with the wimple, the piece of garment worn around the neck and chin, which covered her head as well.

They went shopping to restock the pantry. It was all going well, till they had one momentary lapse in behaviour; that was when Spike adoringly draped an arm around her while they waited in the queue to pay for the groceries. They realised the lapse when a kindergarten-age boy called out to his mother, pointed them out and said, "Mom, that Nun has a boyfriend." Everyone's eyes fell upon them. Spike quickly disengaged from her and she appeared mortified. But once they got to the car park, they were doubled over in a fit of giggles.

After grocery shopping, they ate lunch at one of his favourite restaurant, and even went bowling.

Meanwhile, Packer's legal team was cranking up the billable hours, when normally they could only be found in country clubs enjoying leisurely lunches on the Sabbath. They were hard at work in the conference room of one of the swankiest city high rise: five juniors, two solicitors, one barrister and a Jury Consultant. They were being paid top dollar to deliver the best legal manoeuvrings. And for the fees they were charging, their client expected to be out free. Only two outcomes were acceptable, an acquittal or a mistrial. But there was one problem, Winnie Camden.

They have searched high and low, turned every rock, and couldn't find fault. They couldn't find a weakness. The barrister was grim-faced, "How do you discredit a witness who works with the SRU? Who is so squeaky clean she doesn't have a parking ticket in her name?"

One of the juniors added, "She doesn't even have a truancy record in school."

The Jury Consultant, who has been involved in many high profile cases, said that the only way to get Scott scot-free was to pay-off the jury. But with the damning evidence and the unimpeachable testimony of the lone witness, no amount of money could persuade the jury to throw in their lot with them.

After two hours of futile discussion, the Barrister called the Packer Matriarch to let her know that they hit a dead-end on the key witness, "Mrs Packer, Winnie Camden is a Prosecutor's dream."

"Thank you. Leave it with me."

She called her son to let him know what the lawyer said, and then she let fly, "You've disgrace our family. You've brought us nothing but grief and shame." Scott has heard it all before.

There was only one thing to do, get everyone out there – _as many as it takes_ – to lift Officer Scarlatti. _He's hiding her_. He called the head of an infamous white supremacist group. Skin heads, street savvy and very cruel. His newspaper has written several defensive articles in favour of the white supremacist group so it stood to reason that they owed him. _Time to call in a favour._


	36. Trapping Scarlatti

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Kdj539. _

_Please note that Yoh-Lin Tee first appeared in the multi-chapter "Weapons of Mass Destruction." For back story, please read it. Thank you._

**Trapping Scarlatti**

Sunday late afternoon:

Winnie changed out of the Nun's habit into a black singlet and a pair of denim shorts that put her long legs on display. His eyes gained a mind of their own. They fell on her pins and refused to look elsewhere. Then his brain clicked into gear, he's just hot-wired this way.

She's well-proportioned at 1.68m (5'6). His eyes scanned her from her bare feet, his brain clicking and storing the information along the way as his eyes go all the way up to meet her eye-to-eye. His brain captured the stimulus, it being her, and "stored" it as a neuron pathway imprint. Her image transferred from neuron to neuron, till she was encoded in his memory.

This was the image he stored: The legs toned as a result of practicing Yoga, the butt firm, the abs wash-board flat, the breast pert and erect, the neck graceful - his eyes travelled up till they reached her eyes. She was staring back at him, her hands on her waist. He smiled sheepishly at being caught out. "What can I say," he said in his defence. "I've hardly ever seen you in anything but in your uniform."

She laughed_, Fair enough_, and didn't think any more of it. But he was totally fucked now, distracted to the core. Another part of his anatomy developed a mind of its own. _I need a stiff drink. My God, this woman is going to turn me into an alcoholic._

She pottered in the kitchen making dinner. Chopping ingredients and dancing to Kiss' _I am Made for Loving You, Baby_. The lyrics were so suggestive that he struggled to breathe; she clearly didn't know what she was doing to him. He became totally unhinged when she raised her bare arms up, turning and twisting with her pillow lips pursed in a pout. _That's it_. He grabbed his book in a huffed, went to his room and closed the door.

The image of her gyrating to _Kiss' _most enduring song was now inked in his photographic brain. But he realised that what really got to him was the colour of her skin. She has peanut butter skin and he so wanted to lick her. _If I could only focus on something else_, he despaired.

He tapped the bar on his computer and it came to life. The only subject he could focus on more than Winnie's body was Winnie's safety. He searched for online information on public enemy number one. He wasn't disappointed with the amount of information; there were several gigabytes available on the sub-human who murdered a defenceless woman.

Reading the news reports refocused his mind until she knocked on the door, "Come in." She walked in with a ladle in her hand, "Taste this."

He looked at the ceiling and despaired some more. He taste tested the casserole and gave her his stamp of approval. She smiled, tilted her head just so and peered at the computer screen. Her face crunched, he turned off the computer monitor, "It's ok, don't worry."

She nodded, "I know… it's gonna be ok." She turned to leave then pirouetted on her toes to face in his direction again, "Dinner in ten minutes." _Damn!_

He came out 10 minutes later with a cotton shirt in his hand, "Come here… put this on." She put her arms through the long sleeve. He buttoned her up to her neck and folded the sleeve just pass the small of her wrist. The shirt looked like a reasonable length mini skirt. "What's this about?" she asked.

"You've been very distracting," he said with a wink. But it didn't helped much in that she looked too darn cute in it. _I need a stiff drink_.

"Well, thank you for the compliment, Officer Scarlatti."

They ate dinner, bread roll, salad, beef casserole with more vegetables in it than meat. "Are you sure this is beef casserole? It looks anaemic." She laughed at his quirky comment.

"Don't complain. It's good for you."

"If you say so..." They joked a lot until he noticed the time. _Nine_, "Um, thanks for dinner I gotta go. Need to work on something."

"You're welcome."

He scrutinised her, the lips looked very inviting. _Ahh_, he took the remaining wine with him and took his leave. He heard her asked, "Why did you do that?"

"Did what?"

"Go away in a huff… ?"

"Because just now I wanted to kiss you."

"Why don't you?"

"Because if I do I won't stop… ". He turned away and forced himself to focus on a battle plan, how to get them through the minefield. Yet, he made a promised to himself that as soon as this business was done, provided he was still alive and breathing on his own, she would be his. He heard the refrain inside his brain, _I am made for loving you, baby_.

She settled into her sofa bed and thought, _but I don't want you to stop… _She, too, heard the refrain in her brain.

It was mid-night by the time he completed the malware. He searched for the identities of the legal team. It wasn't hard. They were everywhere, on radio, TV, news print, online, even the bleeping college papers weren't spared. He zeroed in on the Jury Consultant, the notable Pierre Simon, known to one and all by his sobriquet Mr PS.

It was getting very late. He sent an email to Mr PS's mobile phone from an anonymous email address. Subject line: Constable Spike Scarlatti. He attached a scanned photo of himself in a bomb suit. He wrote: "For $50,000 I can give you Scarlatti. Reply by email only."

Spike went to sleep – soundly this time. Mental tiredness and the wine helped to put him to sleep; Winnie, too, learning Morse code nearly short-circuited her brain.

Monday:

Pierre Simon was up at five in the morning. He got all excited when he saw the email; so excited that he forwarded it to everyone in the legal team and to the client himself, effectively spreading the malware. Spike's computer beeped, he smiled. His computer has alerted him to the fact that his message has been opened, "Bingo."

Most people safeguarded their computer from viruses but very few think to do the same with their phone. It was the weakest link. It's even weaker when they sync every devices they own with their Iphone. With one email, Mr PS opened the door to Spike Scarlatti to spy on them. Within minutes of the malware spreading, Spike had control of their phones, Ipad, Ipod, and when Scott Packer plugged his Iphone to his computer to transfer some information, he took control of his personal computer too, and there was nothing McAfee could do to save him.

Winnie was already awake when he came out. "You look very happy," she said.

"That I am."

He showered, dressed quickly in a very casual combination of black T-shirt, cargo pants which had seen better days and a pair of slip on canvas shoes. He came over to her, gave her cheek a teeny tiny peek and said, "I'm off."

"You haven't had breakfast."

"No time." On went out in a hurry. He looped across his torso his reversal shoulder bag. Now, it's blue. The underside of it was red. She was left to wonder what he was up to, it seemed urgent.

He arrived at HQ at seven in the morning, two hour early. "Morning, Peter."

"Morning Spike. You're early." He didn't reply, just smiled and headed straight to the locker room; then the Gym, followed by target practice in the shooting range. By the time Sam and Jules arrived to work at eight am, Spike had disappeared like a ghost.

He went up to the roof with a pair of binoculars. He suspected the modus operandi had to change after he slipped last Friday's dragnet. His hunch was right. He spotted seven heavily tattooed, thick muscled white supremacists. They tried to blend in but it's hard to do when they were all shaved. The suits and the leather shoes didn't erase the tattoos inked on their heads and necks. It just made them conspicuous. He spotted three vehicles. No, four. A Harley Davidson motorcycle tucked away from view, behind some bushes. He only noticed it when one of the thugs went in to retrieve a sidearm.

He came down, Team One were all present and accounted for. "Hey Jules, how's my baby?" he said.

"Is there something we don't know?" teased Sgt Parker.

Sam, the other half of the golden couple heard Spike claim the bun in the oven, "Hands off my baby."

"You have to learn to share you know," he said. "That's the first rule on the playground."

"Kids, kids…. Behave. Spike, you wanna baby? Have Izzy for two days."

"Seriously, when?"

"This week-end. I'm thinking of taking Sophie away for a romantic holiday and Clark is not up to it. He's dating now. You heard me, Spike. Clark is dating."

"So's Dean," piped up Sgt Parker.

Scarlatti scratched his head and smiled, "Well, I'm all for speed dating. From friends to fiancée in a week's time."

"I wanna see that," said Jules.

"My money's on Spike, said Sgt Parker. Before the day ended, a blackboard materialised in the staff canteen like magic. They were taking bets on the sex of the Braddock baby; whether he/she would be blonde, brunette or even a red-haired. There's even an odd for the weight and length of the wee bub. HQ was all agog and happy for the first baby to be born into the Unit that they nicknamed he/she, "Snapper." A word hybrid of napper and sniper.

And then there's a bet on Scarlatti's love life. Fiancée or no fiancée. Only Sgt Parker had his money on him. Greg put an arm around the Techie and said, "If I lose money on you, I will freeze your ass to desk duties." Spike smirked, Sgt Parker couldn't lose money on him, the book makers forgot to add a time limit.

The day went by quickly. Before leaving the building, he went up the roof again and scanned the terrain outside the SRU perimeter. All seven were still outside, bored, probably stuffed full of junk food, sleepy and likely very stressed. Surveillance is not easy. To the uninitiated, it looks like child's play but that it ain't. It requires massive discipline, concentration and patience; and these guys don't have those qualities.

He came down and asked Sam for a lift. "What happened to your car?"

"It's in the garage." He wondered if he should let Sam know of the seven thugs outside, but alerting Sam would inevitably dragged him into his war. It just won't do, especially with a pregnant sweetheart.

"Home?"

"No, I need to go to the Mall."

"Ok?"

Sam's open-topped Jeep put him on display. The seven thugs separated and jumped into their respective vehicles. The guy on the motorcycle seemed to be the most experienced in this type of harassment. Spike kept his cool, chatted and joked with Sam as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Sam dropped him off at the Toronto Eaton Centre, "Thanks buddy, catch you tomorrow."

Three thugs left their vehicles while their partners find parking. Spike walked briskly; his tails not far behind. He entered a hardware store, discreetly flashed his badge clipped in his belt and nodded to the Manager, he was allowed in through the loading dock. When the three thugs tried to follow, the Manager confronted them but backed off when he saw the menace in their eyes. It bought Spike three precious seconds.

He turned into a recessed back door fire exit, picked the lock and re-entered the Mall. As he was walking up the aisle towards the elevator he spotted the guy in the motorcycle. All seven were wearing the same suits and shoes that they looked like Hugo Weaving without hair in the Matrix.

Spike walked to the escalator but didn't climb up it like people do in movies. Rushing was more attention-seeking than just holding your nerves. He lost two more but he knew it won't be for long.

He went in a men's room, careful to check that no Hugo Weaving copy-cat was inside. He entered a cubicle, removed a pair of red thongs from his reversible shoulder bag. Slipped off his canvas shoes just as one of the thugs peered under the first cubicle. He quickly hitched his pants up.

Mr Thug was looking for someone in canvas shoes, not someone in red thong. He coolly tapped his foot as if waiting to finish his personal business. The thug completed his inspection. When bad guy left, he stood up and unzipped the cargo pants from the knees. It became a knee-length walking shorts, gone was the long pants.

From his reversible bag, he took out a loud green Hawaiian shirt with prints of large white frangipani. The back had an image of a pretty hula dancer. He's had it since University days, the same shirt he used for his initiation into one of the College's top fraternity.

He put a baseball cap on, reversed the shoulder bag to red and he walked out. He learned spy-craft from the best senior intelligence in the business, CSIS' Yoh-Lin Tee. Becoming invisible wasn't about disguises although sometimes it helped. It was about morphing your appearance.

Spike walked out of the cubicle looking like a lost tourist from Hawaii. His shirt was so loud that people either averted their eyes in shock-horror or stared at the shirt laughing; no one looked at his face. He had a cap on, red shoulder bag, knee-length pants, and red thong. He passed five of the thugs on his way out and none of them recognised him.

Winnie had a bellyache laughing at his appearance when he showed himself home. He thought to himself, _Woman, if you only know how much sacrifices I'm putting myself in for you. _

When she was done laughing, she wrapped her arms around him and said, "You're so adorable." And he thought, _Woman, you're so worth it._

That night, he checked his computer to see what the crooks were up to, an email was sent to an Irish-Canadian, Colin Kelly Murphy. A bomb-maker!

Target: The court house.

It chilled his gut. _Winnie would be inside the court house but so would he and his legal team._ _Would he put himself at great risk to avoid the Trial? No, it's a big court house. A small acid bomb would be all it'd take to kill Winnie._

He has to move fast. Think fast.

He wasn't going to bury the love of his life. _Over my dead body!_


	37. Watching Over You

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Julie Spitzer. _

_The song "I'll be Watching You" was first featured in the story "Let Destiny Speak." Spike's friendship with Lewis Young was described in detail in the story "Remembrances of Lewis."_

_**Tissue Alert!**__ It's not really Flashpoint unless we cry a little at some point, isn't it? Please get a hanky ready._

**Watching Over You**

Spike was filled with apprehension. His discovery that Scott Packer has engaged a bomb maker's expertise bothered him dreadfully. The worry got his chest in a tight grip yet it's not a burden he could share with her; not without scaring her senseless.

He reverted back to old form, to the nasty habit of keeping things bottled up within himself; a bad habit his Boss has tried, over the years, to talk out of him; that was back in a big way. The darkness, the grimness, he bottled them up and tried to find a solution by his lonesome.

He laid prone on his bed, an arm over his forehead. _What do I know of Colin Kelly Murphy?_ He was aware of the bomber's bad ass reputation. His exploits has grown in proportion to the number of bombings he was rumoured to have engineered and so far no arrest. _A phantom? A myth? An urban legend?_ _A code name?_

Spike knew from whispers up and down the Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) channel that Murphy could command his price. According to hearsay, his services didn't come cheap because, if the grapevine could be believed, he could guarantee a result. The first time he came across the name was when he consulted with CSIS over eco-terrorist bombings of multinational companies in Canada and overseas. Murphy has a deific status among lowlife, terrorist bombers across the globe.

Exhaustion overtook him. One minute he was staring at the ceiling wracking his brain for a solution; the next minute his brain has switched off completely.

He vividly saw Winnie exit the Court House, looking smart in a dark tailored suit. Reporters were gathered around her, she said a few words. He didn't know what it was she said, but whatever it was, they were lapping it up and she looked so happy. He saw his Dad next to her, hovering protectively. "Papa?" he whispered.

Dominic Scarlatti smiled at him. He mouthed, "Sono così orgoglioso di te, figlio." His chest swelled to the size of Canada. His Dad, he's proud of him.

Winnie spotted him standing next to one of the roman columns. She smiled, waved and rushed over to him. The next thing he saw was an orange blast, followed closely by an ear-splitting explosion. Then she disintegrated before his eyes, along with everyone around her. His heart palpitated, followed by a rapid fire 'boom, boom, boom, boom' in his eardrums. The rushed of blood to his brain caused him to trash about, he was screaming, "Winnie! No, no. Noooooooooo. God no!"

She heard the shrieks coming from Spike's bedroom, followed by uncontrolled gasping breathe. With strong athletic legs she hurdled over the back of the sofa bed and was by his side in an instant. "Spike, Spike. Wake up. Wake up." He was drenched in sweat, shaking like a leaf.

She shook his shoulders hard. "Spike, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

His eyelids literally flew open in fright, he bolted upright. "Winnie, thank God. Thank God." He grabbed her to him tightly, quite distressed. The side of her face pressed on his chest she could hear the loud, frantic beatings of his heart. She was amazed he didn't keel over with a massive heart attack. His hair was plastered on his head; swimming in perspiration.

She waited until his heart rate slowed before disengaging from his embrace, "Let me get you a glass of water."

When she returned from the kitchen, he was sitting on the bed, hunched over, his head between his hands. "Here," she said softly, worried she might startle him. His hand shook as he took the glass from her. He drank greedily, spilling some water down the side of his mouth. She sat next to him, "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked concerned. She wasn't surprised when he shook his head from side to side.

"I'll get a wash cloth," she said. She got up to walk away but he stopped her. She stood in front of him as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his head on her belly. She stroked his head with one hand, and rubbed his back with the other. He was crying, she didn't know what triggered it but she intuited that it must have something to do with death; death of a loved one. _Lou? Sgt McCoy? His Dad?_ _It could be any number of people he failed to save_.

When he was all cried out, he released his death grip on her. Wordlessly, he went to shower; she made coffee. It would be a long night – no, a long day. She looked at the wall clock; it was one in the morning.

He didn't look at her when he came out of the bathroom. When he came out of the bedroom he was dressed in white T-Shirt, overlaid by a checked blue and white polo shirt; denim pants and rubber shoes. He has his leather jacket draped on his arm. "I'm going out, I'll be back shortly."

"Spike, you're in no condition…" he ignored her. He closed the front door before she could finish her sentence. "…to drive."

There was nothing she could do but trust him to keep his head. She looked for Officer Teddy, and together they walked to his bedroom, laid on his bed and cuddled together. It comforted her to smell his scent. "Please come home," she whispered in tears.

Spike found himself in the Ontario Police Cemetery. He could find Lewis' resting place even in the inky darkness. The eerie silence never bothered him, this was the one place he often found solace, comfort and protection. He reached his best friend's tomb, touched the cold marble, "Hey, bro. How have you been? Sorry I've not come to see you for a while. Been busy keeping the peace you know." Tears came in torrent down his cheeks; like someone turned on the tap.

He sat next to Lou's tomb and rested his back against it. He draped his leather jacket on him. "Lou, buddy. Winnie's in trouble and I don't know what to do." He started off his monologue, between sob, he poured his heart out to a friend who in life **always** had his back.

"I really should stay away from people… everyone who gets close to me…"

"I can't do this anymore…" he sobbed. He rattled on with his monologue, until his body was exhausted but mind was afraid to rest in case the nightmare returns.

Winnie fell asleep briefly and woke up with a start. "Spike…"

She came out of the room, saw the time. _He's been gone over an hour_. She felt frantic. _Where could he be at this time?_ She called his phone. The "Hot call" in her voice was coming from the bedroom_, He didn't take his cell_. She decided to call for help… she dialled Sgt Parker's number.

A very sleepy voice answered, "Hello, Sgt Parker… how can I help you?" In spite of her growing apprehension, a laugh escaped from her lips. Sgt Parker was always so in character, "Boss, it's Winnie…

He was immediately alert; sleep went out the window in a flash, "Winnie! Is everything ok?"

"No, it's not ok. Boss, it's Spike."

"What happened?"

"He drove off… he had a nightmare. He's been gone over an hour."

"Gone… over an hour." When it comes to Spike nothing was straight-forward. "Ok, I'm coming, see you in a few minutes."

"Boss, thanks. I'm so sorry to trouble you."

"Hey, don't apologise. I'd be more upset if you didn't call. See you soon."

Marina turned around sleepily; she overhead Greg's half of the conversation, "Who was it?"

Greg Parker rolled out of bed, dressed quickly and replied, "Spike, he had a nightmare and took off."

"Honey, save time and go to Lou first," she said. "Trust me, he's with him."

"How'd you know that?" he said with a half-smile.

"Where would he be at two in the morning that isn't shut or dangerous… besides, I've heard enough to know he and Lou were more than best friends; and it wouldn't be the first time you found him there."

"You're right… now go back to sleep, he said.

"You kidding right?" she smiled.

He was about to leave when she said, "You forgetting something?" He turned back and planted a kiss on her lips. Parker called Winnie to say he think he knows where Spike is.

In the early days after Lou passed he was often here, sitting with his back to the marble tomb sleeping. He's been crying for hours. He was spent. He drifted into a micro sleep… he was awoken by sound of footsteps. Voices. Two men. He made himself smaller. Two flashlights were scanning the surroundings. The guards were doing their round. As the men got closer, their voices became clearer in the stillness of the night.

Man 1: What would you do, man?

Man 2: Well, I reckon prevention is better than cure. **Preemptive strike, man**. I'll just have to make sure I'm ahead of the game.

Man 1: In that case, **it's gonna be ok, bro**.

It was as if Lou spoke directly to him. "_Preemptive strike, man. That's what you need to do. Don't wait till you've gotta diffused a bomb. Just don't give him a chance to make one, it's gonna be ok."_

"Thanks bro, thanks for having my back." Tears gushed out of him again, tears of gratefulness. He hugged his legs, allowing his jeans to absorb the salty tears. He heard footsteps behind him; he lifted his face, turned around to find the cherubic face of Sgt Parker. "What are you doing here?"

"Let's just say, I got a phone call."

"Winnie…"

"Yeah… so what did old Lou tell you?"

"He told me it's gonna be ok."

Sgt Parker smiled and put a protective arm around him. "Let's go, someone's waiting for you. And I don't want to see at work today. Not in this condition. Can you drive?

"Yeah" he said.

"Without falling asleep on the wheels and killing yourself in the process?"

"Yeah, trust me."

"Well, that's the problem isn't it?" Spike laughed. They walked down the path to the car park as a wise roosting saw-whet owl hooted.

Winnie spent much of the wait pacing the floor, alert to the soft click of the door. The second she heard it, she rushed to the door, and morals be damned! She would rape him if she has to but she didn't get the chance, Spike walked in with Sgt Parker not far behind.

It didn't take a genius to know that Winnie was anxious to have Spike return to her, Greg smiled and said, "Well, I'll let you two look after each other then." He closed the door behind him and thought_, Good on ya, Spike._

She stood nailed to the floor, a second later she said, "What the hell," tossed Officer Teddy in the air, rushed over to Spike, stood on her tip toes and kissed him. His Italian blood sizzled….

It didn't take a genius…


	38. Preemptive Strike

_Author's Note: Winnie's legal name, "Guinevere Camden" was first mentioned in the story "Hope." _

"_The Love Offensive" is a prequel to all previous stories written with the exception of "A Pleasant surprise."_

_Geeks United was first introduced in the story "Weapons of Mass Destruction." For backstory please read it. _

_**GIDDY ALERT!**__ This is a very romantic chapter, although the title doesn't suggest it. _

**Preemptive Strike**

Winnie and Spike were smouldering with passion. The pent-up emotions exploded. The feelings she has long suppressed and repressed came out in very passionate kisses. He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom, their lips still locked together.

He wasn't going to be denied this time, not now, not after what he has been through. He wanted her so much. He wanted the peanut butter skin, the plump juicy cherry tomato lips, and the firmness of her body.

_This all-consuming fire, could this be possible, can it be?_ She breathlessly called his name, "Oh, Michaelangelo…" They fell onto his bed, she was pinned underneath him, "Winnie…" he murmured her name with heat and passion.

She chose this moment of intimacy to reveal her real name, "Guinevere," she said.

"Who's Guinevere?" he asked as his lips followed the contours of her neck.

"My real… name… is Guinevere," she said painfully breathless.

He stopped momentarily, he looked into her eyes and said, "Even your name is beautiful, Miss Camden."

They could have consummated their love right there and then but for the insistent beeping of the computer. Spike exhaled and felt deflated, that persistent noise meant something urgent has happened and he must attend to it. Winnie sensed the agony, minus the ecstasy. It took them a long time to slow their heart rate, both unwilling to let go, until she urged him, "its ok, Spike."

"No, it's not ok but I must…" He forcibly made himself get off Winnie. She remained in the room, hoping he'd include her. He was focused. She imagined that must be how he's like in the Command Truck. The look of concentration on his face betrayed the fear he held in his heart, "What is it?"

She could read him. They've worked long enough together for her to know this wasn't just any case. This was massive. This was life and death. "What is it?"

He turned to her, "Nothing…" he came forward to her. "Make me something to eat. I'm hungry." He kissed her plump lips again before sending her out.

He went back to the monitor. Someone has been buying potentially explosive materials. These were not C-4, or Semtex._ Whoever it is knows to mix chemical compounds from ordinary household products_. By itself, a purchase of pool chlorinator was just a purchase of pool chlorinator; but not when it's in conjunction with other stuff and at certain quantities. He was sure it wasn't intended to clean swimming pool. The RCMP has flagged an individual using the same credit card to buy different industrial and household stuff from various hardware and grocery stores. _What are the odds?_

Based on the products being purchased, he thought in all likelihood, they were making chlorine gas. But Colin K Murphy wasn't known to make this type of bomb. Bombers have signatures. They have certain styles and preferences. This was so way out there, it just wasn't plausible but he wouldn't discount it either because under the circumstance chlorine gas would be perfect. It would create chaos and disrupt proceedings.

At SRU HQ, a different drama was unfolding. It was Peter who alerted Sgt Parker, "Boss, check your email. An alert has been flagged by RCMP. Someone called asking for a list of EOD personnel."

Parker checked his email. _Someone wants the name of EOD personnel?! _It's an exclusive Unit, to which Scarlatti belonged. A Unit composed of men and women whose identities are protected by the Government. He called Spike to let him know.

"Hey boss, what's up?"

"Someone's made an inquiry to RCMP about names of EOD personnel, should I be worried?"

"Nah, they won't find anything, I have control." he said cheerfully.

Parker shook his head; he has long given up trying to understand how the Techie's brain worked. He changed the subject, "Two more days till the Trial date. I expect we should hear from Anjelica Delaney soon about Winnie."

"Yeah. Boss... I'd much prefer it if we can keep her in our custody." Parker didn't comment, "Boss?"

"I hear ya. Let me see what I can do."

"Thanks Boss."

Yesterday, after the computer alerted him that his message has been received and forwarded by Mr PS, he took control of their computer hardware and deleted the Trojan email. He couldn't let his name float out there and he couldn't allow his photograph, although incognito out there either. He only used it as an irresistible "bait." He took inspiration from the "I love you" computer worm which caused so much damage in May, 2000. It affected tens of millions of computers because the recipients couldn't resist opening the email that appeared as a love letter.

By the time Mr PS reached the law office at nine in the morning, everyone from junior clerks to the most senior law partner were all sweating blood and tears. They have been hacked and they didn't know how.

"How did you know we were hacked?" asked Mr PS. It was just too incomprehensible that it would happen two days before Trial. "This is unacceptable."

A young gun replied, "We know we've been hacked 'cause there's one email that keeps replicating itself. The server crushed about five this morning. We're still trying to find out the source of the Trojan email."

"And what is this email that keeps replicating saying?" he asked.

The junior clerk said, "It says, 'Assholes'… over and over again."

_Fuck_, _fuck, fuck_. Mr PS thought perhaps it was he who spread the virus but he couldn't be sure. But his gut was telling him it was him! What did he know of Trojan emails and viruses? He couldn't… wouldn't… admit to it. _It might just be coincidence. If I raise my hand up, my head would be in a platter and my body in the bottom of the ocean._

They heard his menacing voice before he was physically inside the conference room, "You mean to tell me this hacker has control!" It was Scott Packer.

The senior partner tried to pacify the client, "We have it under control. We've employed a dozen IT experts to fix the problem. They'll be here soon."

Packer was livid beyond words. He kicked a chair and threw a vase at one of the secretaries. "Idiots!"

He turned to the Jury Consultant, "Pierre, how's Jury selection?"

"That's been sorted. Jury has been selected weeks ago and on that count, they're a sympathetic bunch." He wished. Packer smiled for the first time since blundering into the meeting. Then without warning he scowled at them.

"We still have no news about the bloody guy who's harbouring the witness." Scott kicked the chair; they were alarmed at the way his moods go up and down with such ferocity and frequency.

Pierre Simon ingratiated himself, "On that count I can help. I received a tip, name and photo of the guy."

"Show me," barked Scott.

Mr PS scrolled down his iPhone's messages, "It's gone. I must have deleted it." He knew he didn't. He definitely didn't. And if he didn't, then the hacker must have. _Shit. Shit. Shit. _But no way in hell would he admit to it.

Scott leaned on the executive swivel chair, his long manicured finger steeple together, "Well…"

Pierre Simon squirmed, "Well, I can tell you what I can remember. The guy in the photo was wearing a bomb suit and he has an Italian sounding name."

"Bomb suit you said." The senior partner instructed one of the secretaries to call RCMP to obtain a list of EOD personnel. The conversation turned sideways when the trained communication experts at RCMP questioned the secretary why she needed the names of protected government employees.

The secretary didn't know why so she said, "It's ok, forget it." RCMP didn't forget. It flagged the call, added the phone number to the Terror watch list. Department of Defence sent an alert.

Spike smiled. They won't find him. But could he find Colin Kelly Murphy in time? This was the big question he was mulling over when Winnie appeared bearing food. Her hair was still wet from the shower, she was wearing a white camisole dress and she looked very inviting in it.

"It's too late for breakfast but too early for lunch… so here's some biscuits, cheese, dips and ajar of Nutella."

"Ummm…" he said, "I can think of something else I'd like to dip in the Nutella." She laughed. It was a merry, happy, crackling laugh he loved so much.

He turned off the computer. _Murphy could wait._

She made her to sit on his lap; she straddled him and felt every inch of his hardened muscles. He dipped his finger in the Nutella, and spread the chocolate goodness on her lips which he always loved the feel of. He licked, bit, sucked and kissed the lips he longed for. Nutella couldn't be the same again.

It wasn't just about giving in to carnal desires. It was about making love. After they were sated with love, he asked as he kissed the tip of her nose, "Do you know Adrian Henri?

"I can't say I do," was her honest reply.

"Well, in 1967 along with Brian Patten and Roger McGough (she knew neither one but she wasn't going to tell him that) Adrian Henri published an anthology of modern poetry. Here's one."

Spike, with Winnie cradled in his arms, recited the poem, Love is…

_Love is…_

_Love is feeling cold in the back of vans_

_Love is a fanclub with only two fans (she nodded)_

_Love is walking holding paintstained hands_

_Love is._

_Love is fish and chips on winter nights_

_Love is blankets full of strange delights_

_Love is when you don't put out the light_

_Love is_

_Love is the presents in Christmas shops_

_Love is when you're feeling Top of the Pops_

_Love is what happens when the music stops_

_Love is_

_Love is white panties lying all forlorn (she giggled)_

_Love is pink nightdresses still slightly warm_

_Love is when you have to leave at dawn_

_Love is_

_Love is you and love is me (she sighed)_

_Love is prison and love is free_

_Love's what's there when you are away from me_

_Love is…_

"I never took you for a poet," she whispered.

Caressing her back, as their naked skin touched he whispered, "There's a lot you don't know about me, my Guinevere."

A few minutes later, he said, "Miss Sunshine, put me to sleep." She stroked his eyebrow with her finger, the way a baby is put to sleep; the gentle strokes sending him to snoozeland. When he woke up hours later, he was ready to face Colin Kelly Murphy. _They say Murphy's one of the best bomb-maker around. I'm one of the best bomb diffusion expert alive. Bring it on!_

He turned on his CSIS-issued computer and continued to watch credit card purchases, but knowing Murphy he'd be buying them in cash. _He was too experienced, too notorious to make such elementary mistake as to buy stuff with credit card. He'd be invisible. _But Spike was blessed with friends. He reached out to _Geeks United_ and now his computer was pinging.

Murphy entered Canada via a luxury liner that docked in Vancouver, British Columbia. Andrew, who headed Ports Authority Systems pinged him there, he reported back to Spike, "He's boarding a plane from Vancouver bound for Toronto Domestic Airport." Binary who was in charge of airport security took over from him. She captured a screen grab from security cameras and sent it to Spike.

Murphy hired a car, Luca who was in charge of Road Traffic Authority pinged him. He called the car rental company without delay and requested information for the vehicle's GPS locator. The bomb maker led Spike to his hide-out. Since there was an outstanding "Red Notice", the equivalent of an international arrest warrant on Colin Kelly Murphy, he tipped off CSIS who along with Interpol arrested the bomb-maker. **Preemptive strike!**

Nevertheless, Spike couldn't ignore the chlorine gas bomb-in-the-making. _It's out there!_ He knew.

He could feel it in his bones!


	39. Conflict of Interest

_Author's Note: Please bear with me as you take this roller-coaster ride. Heart wrenching in some part; romantic in others; and a tear-jerker too. Hope you enjoy it. _

_"Angel's kisses" was first mentioned in the story, "The Long Shadow of Michaelangelo 'Spike' Scarlatti.", another prequel to this. _

_**Tissue alert! Please get hanky ready.**_

**Conflict of Interest**

Spike stared at the computer time stamp at the bottom of the screen. Tuesday has been a very long day. In just 18 hours his world was tipped upside down, not figuratively, literally.

He visited with Lou in the wee hours of the morning to seek succour and found it. He returned home believing, knowing _it's gonna be ok._ Then, he made love with the woman of his dreams. _They_ made long, unhurried love.

He went to sleep, woke up from a two-hour nap with a throbbing headache. He dry swallowed two over-the-counter pain relievers and continued to monitor the search for an infamous bomb-maker for hire. The trail was long, the search tedious and littered with worry. A team of Super Geeks got into the action because Spike asked for help, he didn't often ask and never lightly.

In truth, the hunt, was hard-going. It seemed easy and it seemed fast. But in reality it was a toe-curling mission all the way. It took the brain-power of four geeks and one intelligence officer to track him down; two experienced operatives to trail him from Vancouver to Toronto; and the combined effort of CSIS and Interpol to apprehend him, after so long on the run.

The hunt started the day before, Monday night to be precise. Inside RCMP's Cyber Crime Unit, Paul another member of Geeks United matched for Colin K Murphy against all data stored by M16, M15, Interpol, CIA, FBI. Customs and Immigration were alerted but Canada's border was porous, he could enter illegally. Intelligence analysts though thought this was unlikely. There was a high degree of probability he wouldn't cross via the mountain ranges from the U.S. It was far more likely he would attempt entry by a common carrier from a third world country, where border control and immigration procedure weren't tight.

Winnie was surprised to see him up. She stood by the bedroom door, watching him work. Long fingers flying on the keyboard with the intensity of a man possessed, "Hey, two hour sleep… that can't be good for you."

He turned to look at her. She was still wearing the white camisole dress that showed the outline of her legs through the flimsy material. He smiled, _What's this beautiful creature doing in my apartment?_ He must be a man possessed because the beautiful creature didn't distract him from what he was working on, "Got work to do, Miss Sunshine."

She wasn't sure what to expect; it's unchartered territory for her. He didn't seem to like it when she hovered over what he's working on. _Classified. Top secret._ _Do I really want to get involved with him? _She chastised herself. _Seriously! You can't possibly be asking this now? _No, she couldn't be. Not after what had happened between them. Not after she's given herself to him, body and heart; even her soul. And if she's not careful, she'd likely to lose her mind, too.

She padded back to the living room to continue her tutorial with Mr Morse. Thankful that at least she had something to occupy her mind. Momentarily, her mind drifted to the Trial of the Year, Scott Packer vs the People of Ontario. She's forgotten it completely.

**1800 Hour.** There was an unmistakable, distinct sound of an explosion. Winnie jumped up, startled. Blood drained from her head and pooled at her feet. _Oh my God_. The sound came from Spike's bedroom. The bedroom they made love in. _You can't be serious_!

It was great relief when Spike turned the corner, speaking on the phone. The expression on her face said it all, he realised what she must have thought happened. She was rigid, her hand over her mouth. He said to himself, "Oh, Jesus! I'm so sorry." Still on the phone, he walked over to put a protective arm around her. She waited til he was finished before she gave his chest a good thumping, letting out a shout, "You scared me!"

"I'm so sorry. I forgot to change my ringtone. It's how I know Bomb Squad is calling." He lifted her tear stained face, "Forgive me?"

"I don't know Spike. I've been with you barely a year and I've been through the ringer. I've been happy, excited, worried, sad, helpless, frightened out of my wits."

He didn't know to say, _Is she regretting it already?_ His eyes spoke what his voice box couldn't express. She covered her face with her hands, swiped them over her hair, "I love you, Spike. I do. For the longest time I've loved you. But this… this is scarring me."

He was confused. "What are you saying? Is it over? Already?" Tears brimmed in his eyes_. Damn,_ she's never met a man so brave he could hold his nerve steady as he diffused a bomb with a five kiloton energy blast and who could cry at the drop of a hat.

"No, it's not," she said as tears flooded down her face. He was relieved but also worried. Worried it wouldn't last. Worried it would be just like with his relationship with his Dad. They were inseparable. They were tight. His Mom used to say that the two of them were like chicken breast bone, fused together. Policing ripped them apart_. If it happens a second time around, especially with Winnie, it would rip me apart._

He did the decent thing; said what she **needed** to know. "You have to **really** think about this. I've been abducted for my geek skills. I get shot at for being SRU. I'm in someone's list because I'm EOD. But this is who I am. I can only try to minimise the risks by being one step ahead but I can't eliminate all of them. If you think you'd stop loving me one day because it all got too much…."

She didn't let him finished; she walked over to him and placed a hand on his mouth, "Don't go there. We're in this together now."

They stood in the middle of the room in locked embrace. He thought the fun and games were not over, will never be over because he would always court her in his playful ways; in ways unexpected with fancy footwork. But from here on their lives would also be graced with worries. They would have to toughen up, both of them.

Winnie moved to release her hold around his waist, wiped away the tears from his face with her fingers. "Hungry? We haven't eaten anything decent all day."

He teasingly said, "I have."

They had candle-lit dinner again, chatted and laughed as classical music played in the background. Winnie tapped the glass with her fork. His brain picked up "k", "I", "S". He didn't wait for the last letter. He leaned in to kiss her passionately. His shadow danced across the sheen of her face as the candle light flickered and illuminated him.

His phone beeped. She laughed, he groaned. "It's got bad timing," he mouthed the words into hers.

"Answer it before it gets hysterical."

Spike answered it. Winnie could tell it wasn't good news. He looked grim, tight-lipped and conflicted. The call worried him: it's a very untimely summon for duty. When he hanged up, she reached over, "I don't want to be kept in the dark. I know there are things you can't tell me. But if it's something that affects me, or us, I want to know. Because not knowing is worse. Deal?"

He nodded, and said. "There's a terror threat, it's been assessed as 'High'. I knew something was going down…. lately I noticed a lot of pool chlorinator is being sold. But it wasn't just me. RCMP, CSIS, DOD, you name it, they've picked it up, too. Apparently, there's a lot of chatter. They want everyone on stand-by. All hands on deck. I have to leave tomorrow." She nodded.

"Boss will call us tomorrow about your new security detail."

_Goodness_. She's completely forgotten about Scott Packer vs the People of Ontario. When she opened her mouth to speak, it was only to decline witness protection. "I don't want security. I'm safe here and I can safely find my way there on my own."

"Negative," he said. He shook his head side to side vigorously. "Not up for discussion."

She gripped his arms as tightly as she could, "Will at least listen to my plan? Please. I trust you so you must trust me, too." _Fair enough._ He nodded his acceptance of her terms.

"If I go to Court with two suits following me around, they'd know it's me. I might as well wear a target on my forehead. But if I go incognito, dressed as a Nun, they won't guess it's me. I'll have someone from SRU dressed in civvy with me. I'll only remove the habit before I'm called to the stand. Put it back on when I'm done. Trust me, it's safer this way."

He beamed proudly at the classy and clever and wonderful and beautiful woman._ Mine,_ he said to himself almost possessively_._ "Ok, let's call the Boss. We'll sell the idea to him."

"I don't want anyone else's to know of the plan. Just you, me, Boss and my undercover bodyguard. Four."

"Good."

Spike called Greg Packer, who thought it was ingenious. "But I have one question, where will you get a habit at short notice?"

"I have one, Boss."

"You do?" Greg sounded flabbergasted.

"Opps, that didn't come out right. My cousin left it here, Sr Susana, she's back in Italy."

"Ok." He sounded relieved.

**2100 Hour**. Winnie came into his bedroom with Officer Teddy. "Miss Camden," he said, "that bear was only hug by proxy. I don't need a proxy anymore."

She hugged the bear tighter. The poor thing has been tossed around like crazy, unloved and hurt. She wasn't about to abandon him and consign him to a box or a book shelf to gather dust. He got up and gave chase. "Give me that."

"No!"

She ran out to the living room, climbed over the sofa bed. He went one way, she went the other. Squealing and threatening each other with rendition and exile. They stopped the playful chase when the neighbour next door hit the adjoining wall with the handle of a broom stick, followed by a holler, "Stop that or I'm calling the cops." They ended on the floor in a fit of giggles.

They went to bed minus Officer Teddy because as Spike explained he's not into three-some.

**2300 Hour**. Spike was awakened by a sense of foreboding. He had developed a heightened sense of danger. Special Forces, soldiers, EODs, police – they all have this sense. "Don't ignore those internal warnings," his RCMP bomb squad leader used to say to all the trainees. "Ignore them at your peril."

He glanced at Winnie's sleeping form. She looked peaceful and angelic. Freckles scattered from her nose to her cheeks. _**Angel's kisses**_. A grandmotherly Filipino neighbour told him when he was a boy that, "In the Philippines when a baby get them freckles, we used to say her guardian angel kissed her in the night." _Your Angel's way too busy kissing you_. He kissed her lightly.

He went to the living room, sat on the middle couch and waited for the TV to come down. He flicked the remote from channel to channel. There was nothing good on. He turned it off and thought about how his life has changed so much.

They have their crosses to bear. Sgt Greg Parker, his Boss, carried the thoughts, images, and conversations with people he couldn't save. First Officer Constable Ed Lane lived with the guilt and the burden of shooting people who didn't deserve to die. Samuel Braddock could never get images of war out of his mind; images of death that's indelibly inked in his memory bank. Jules Callaghan lived with the fear of failure. Leah Kearns lived with fears of failing to meet her people's expectations. He carried the cross of losing people he loved.

He prayed like he's not prayed before. _Please God, I can't look after her because I've gotta look after this City. Just please, don't let anything happen to her. It just wouldn't be fair._

He was conflicted. How do they do it? He thought of Greg Parker, Ed Lane, Sam Braddock and Jules Callaghan. _How do they make that decision every single day to put the people they don't know over and above their loved ones?_ His nerves of steel would be tested. For real.


	40. Wednesday Like No Other

_Author's Note: As a general rule, I research technical aspects of my stories. I wouldn't insult you, my readers, by writing fantastical tales that has no basis in truth. It may not be 100% accurate, especially when it comes to the nitty gritty but it wouldn't be for a lack of trying. This time, sources for my research are official pages of RCMP's newsletter. They are available online._

_It's a romantic chapter, although there's a healthy amount of factual stuff. Please enjoy it; preferably with a cup of tea, or coffee, whichever you fancy._

**Wednesday like No Other**

Winnie turned over to snuggle except Spike wasn't there. She patted the bed, _Gone_. She turned in the direction of the computer, he wasn't there. She rose from the bed, sans clothing. She felt vulnerable in her nakedness; she glanced at the door to make sure he wasn't standing there watching. Suddenly, she felt like a child. Her white unsexy cotton night gown was on the floor, tossed out in another moment of unbridled passion.

And, her white underwear.

She recalled that funny line from the poem _Love is_. She put them on and went to search for him. In the darkness, she saw the outline of his head, both arms resting on the length of the couch's back. She hugged him from behind, "Hey…"

"Hey, what are you doing up?"

She didn't reply, instead she asked her own question, "Do you always wake up at one in the morning?"

"No. Come here, snuggle with me."

She hitched her night gown, climbed over the back of the couch, very unladylike. He smiled.

"A penny for your thought," she said.

"A Penny doesn't entice me."

"What would entice you?"

"A kiss." She kissed his lips. His eyebrows went up in an expression of disbelief, "You actually call that a kiss?" She pinched his side but he was muscular around there so she didn't cause pain.

She cupped his face, "Seriously, what's going on?"

"There's a lot going on but nothing serious. I don't want you to go alone to the trial. I wanna be there to support you but it looks like it's not gonna happen."

"You've supported me, and I know your thoughts will be with me tomorrow. But please wipe me off your mind in case you need to diffuse a bomb, ok?" He nodded. She held his hands, inspected them. They were calloused, scarred and burned in some places. Sometimes, she noticed, his finger nails would be uneven because he had to use them to strip wires.

"I love your hands."

"Thanks but you should go out more and look at more hands," he said. It wouldn't be the last time they'd have this conversation because she honestly loved how masculine his hands feel to the touch and how long they were.

He sighed, "We should try to get some sleep." The onset of insomnia was not helping him. Two hours of sleep, even he couldn't possibly keep this up without impairing his judgment and vision. But the harder he tried, the more elusive sleep became.

"I have an idea," she said.

"What?"

"Massage."

"I like that," he said. They opened up the couch to convert it into a sofa bed. In the absence of aroma therapy oil, she went to the kitchen to get a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. She got him to lie on his belly and gave him a Balinese massage; it's known for its gentle techniques, its aim is to make the recipient feel relaxed and calm. Spike fell asleep in no time. She stretched out next to him, and went to sleep to the rhythmic tick-tock sound of the wall clock.

They didn't wake up till eight in the morning which was refreshing. Then Spike went about the business of packing some clothes to take to ORU HQ where every available bomb disposal experts would converged for a briefing as they await a send-out. When terror alert was "High", EODs didn't wait around at home to be paged. They get on with the business AS IF it's a GO any minute NOW.

There nothing ordinary with the Explosives Disposal and Technology Section (EDTS) of the RCMP's Technical Investigation Services Branch. This section develops, maintains, provide expertise and respond to counter criminal or terrorist acts, particularly those involving the use of explosives. The EDTS is comprised of four units: the Canadian Bomb Data Centre, the Special Support Unit, the Operational Response Unit (ORU), and the Public Security and Anti-Terrorism/Chemical, Biological, Radiological, Nuclear Training Unit.

It provides 24/7 response to explosives-related incidents or crisis situations. The Unit has radiological capabilities, which can support other explosives technicians, crime units, Customs and Excise investigators, and other Canadian police departments.

In addition, the ORU works with the Department of National Defence to ensure the Government has the capability to counter use of improvised nuclear, biological and chemical devices, and to prevent the remote activation of incendiary (inflammatory) devices, and hinder communications between criminals or terrorists during a crisis situation. These are why EOD personnel could not be photographed and paraded in public.

Spike Scarlatti, along with all SRU operational bomb techs, fell under the ORU as "other explosives technicians."

When he finished packing, they ate a leisurely breakfast. Winnie watched him with concerned eyes, "Call me tonight, assuming of course there's nothing bad happening out there."

He smiled, "I will. And, I'll check on you tomorrow. Do you want me to talk with Boss before I go?"

"No, I will make my own arrangement. You have enough worries of your own. I don't want to be this helpless, damsel in distress with no brain and no courage. I can look after myself."

"I know there was a reason I was attracted to you." She laughed, he caressed the right side of her face.

"When will you return?"

"As soon as they downgrade the terror alert to 'low.' It usually takes a couple of days for this sort of threat to be calibrated down."

His wrist watch beeped, "I gotta go. Be safe. Be good, ok."

They kissed and hugged. She didn't want to let him go but she did. She couldn't say she didn't know what she was in for. _This would be a good time to find out if I have what it takes._

With Spike gone, she called Sgt Greg Parker on his personal phone to discuss the Trial. "How's everything?" he said.

"It's good. He's left to…" she didn't have to complete the sentence.

"Yeah… we're on high alert here too."

"Boss, are you sure you can spare a man. I mean you're one man down already, another one just to cover me…. I think it's too much."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Sam is very happy that Jules would be out of harm's way if things go hot. She's going to be your buddy tomorrow."

"Oh, that's so great. I'd love to catch up with her."

"She'll be there at nine in the morning."

"Thanks Boss. Give my love to the Team."

At** 1800 hour**, Spike called Winnie. Her phone sang to her

_I love you baby_

_And if it's quite all right_

_I need you baby_

_To warm my lonely nights_

_I love you baby_

_Trust in me when I say_

_Oh, pretty baby_

_Don't bring me down I pray oh, pretty baby_

_Now that I found you, stay and let me love you_

_Baby let me love you..._

She giggled, _**How does he do it?**_


	41. The Trial

_Author's Note: I am not a lawyer, never even been to a lecture. However, I took the time to research the defence used in this chapter. I relied heavily on a paper called "CONSULTATION PAPER ON INTOXICATION AS A DEFENCE TO A CRIMINAL OFFENCE" published in Ireland that took examples of criminal law from several countries, including Canada. _

**The Trial**

The last person Winnie spoke to last night was Spike; today, the first person she heard from was Spike. "Hey, Miss Sunshine, how are you?"

"Um, great, I slept like a baby. What about you?"

"Are you kidding me, how does anyone sleep in a bunker full of smelly men? They all look like miniaturised version of Godzilla plus they huff and they puff in their sleep, they almost blew the house down."

One of his ORU team mates overheard his conversation with Winnie and flicked his ear; suddenly she heard a yelped followed by, "No violence please. That's the second rule on the playground."

Another voice piped up, "What's the first?"

"You have to share."

Overhearing his conversation with his buddies, Winnie chuckled. "Anyway, I'm talking to my girlfriend, this is private conversation. So, you all please turn off your hearing aids." He returned his attention to her, "Sorry about that." Then he turned serious, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. I want it over and done with. I hope he gets what he deserves." She felt confident it would go well.

He sighed. "Win, I don't want you to be disappointed… he could still get away with it." But he didn't say what he has learned researching Scott Packer; that the monster was by nature vindictive.

"How could he get away with it? We all know he's guilty. We have photographic evidence. I can't imagine how he could get away with it," she said defiantly.

"Miss Sunshine, I don't want you to get your hopes up. It's not as cut and dried as you think. Look, if I'm his lawyer I'll get him to plead not guilty on the basis of **mental impairment**. Last night, I read up on Canadian law." She audibly groaned.

"I heard that, Miss Sunshine, you hurted my feelings." She laughed and encouraged him to go on about his "findings" and "sorry I hurted your feelings."

Spike carried on telling her about his overnight education on Canadian law, in lawyer-speak no less, "At present, involuntary intoxication may excuse criminal liability, but voluntary intoxication is no excuse **unless** it causes a disease of the mind or prevents the defendant from forming the specific intent required to commit an offence where such a specific intent is an element of the offence."

"Spike, in plain English please."

"It means it doesn't matter what evidence we present. They probably won't bother denying he killed her, they'll just say that due to his constant state of inebriation, he has suffered brain damage and it prevented Scott Packer the ability to form intent. He couldn't possibly be held accountable for his actions. Unfortunately, Miss Sunshine, this statute also covers murder and homicide." She sighed.

She felt depressed, changing the topic, she asked, "What were you doing reading on Canadian criminal law anyway?"

"I was bored. I needed some entertainment." She laughed out loud. When she stopped laughing she said, "I'm so glad you're not his lawyer."

"Win, his legal team would have been doing marathon meetings for days and they'd have prepared this defence by now. They failed to get you, they know your character is beyond question. It's the only tactic that could work," he said seriously, "But you know what, there are super heroes out there who'll get him. It's not over yet."

"And who is this Superhero?"

"I'm thinking Obi-Wan Kenobi."

She heard knocking on the door, "I gotta go, that's Jules. Love you and thanks for my new ring tone."

"Love you, too. Give my love to Jules and say hi to our baby."

Winnie opened the door excitedly; Jules frowned at her, "We've talked about this before. Don't you ever check the door before you open it?"

She was instantly sheepish, "I know it's you. Come on, no lecture," she pulled her inside. "So, how far along are you, Miss Jules Callaghan-Braddock?"

Jules smirked, "Ten weeks now. And it's not yet Callaghan-Braddock."

"Oh, not long now. I'm sure in its the pipeline," she teased, Jules didn't deny it.

"It's so wonderful. I'm so happy for you," she hugged the tiny one who's carrying an even tinier one. They got all excited about the baby and the pregnancy. They prattled on like there's no tomorrow until the wall clock chimed.

"Oh goodness, I better get ready… Jules, help yourself to anything." She rushed to the bathroom. Constable Callaghan walked around the quirky apartment. There's only one space she's interested in, she pushed the _trompe l'oeil_ of a French inspired window, it revealed Spike's workshop. _So, mini babycakes has a sister_. One painted blue and the other painted pink. _Male and female, interesting_.

Inspecting the two mini robots, she leaned on the wall and it clicked, "What the…?" It's a concealed door. She opened it; it revealed a safe. Jules smiled. _Wow, you're full of surprises, Scarlatti_.

"Jules, can you help…?" _Where's Jules? _she looked around frantically.

"Coming," Jules came out of the workshop. "Dya know that Spike has a male and female robots?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why… don't you go in there?"

"No, but I know it's a workshop. One day I'll sticky beak."

Jules helped her with her wimple. "You're the prettiest nun I've ever seen. Shall we go? Where's your change of clothes?"

"Oh, I'm wearing it; just a conservative black dress."

"Good girl, let's go."

Anjelica Delaney was waiting for them at the foyer of the Court House, surrounded by cops and legal assistants. Reporters were all a-huddled in one corner, while curious onlookers were granted access to the Trial by requesting for passes online, such was the interest in the case that it was given unprecedented media coverage. But since the Packer family owned a significant number of media outlets, some editorials and news reporting have been favourable to Scott.

The Crown Prosecutor acted as if she didn't know them both well, "Follow me," she said. She led them to an empty chamber. "We wait here." Once inside the chamber, she thanked Constable Callaghan. She reserved her effusive gratitude to Winnie, holding the despatcher's hands, she said. "Without you, this wouldn't even go to trial. You've taken such a risk to do this."

Winnie teared up, "Anyone would have been willing. There could have been three of us had they not injured the others."

"You're right. Let's hope we get the bastard."

They heard a knock, "It's time." Winnie quickly removed the nun's habit in a practiced move. She was out of it in less than a minute. She was a sight behold in a black dress, reminiscent of Jackie Kennedy in that famous black one piece she wore in front of the White House, standing next to Pres Kennedy. Short-sleeved, body fitting but not hugging, length passed her knees. She wore black low heeled shoes. Her curly hair was held together by a simple strand of silver hairband. She was good to go.

The presiding judge asked the defendant how he intended to plead; Winnie caught her breath when Scott Packer announced to the packed gallery he was pleading "not guilty". _Spike was right_. The senior barrister stood up to hand the judge a document; he read it out, "Not guilty on the basis of mental incapacity."

When she was called to the stand, she answered confidently and without embellishment. Throughout her testimony, she thought of it as a"hot call". She was well-practiced in the art of staying calm under pressure; of sounding cool when all she wanted to do was shout, "scorpio"; of focusing on Anjelica's voice as if she was Sgt Parker so she didn't miss a beat. Only Jules knew how scared she was.

The defense didn't question her. _Spike was right, again_. Her heart sunk. She didn't think it was possible to feel _this_ homicidal. It was just too much to contemplate that justice wouldn't be served today!

At the end of her testimony, the lower right side of her dress was crunched, she twisted the fabric to within an inch of its life. But she was still defiant. She glared at the accused and his legal team, if looks could kill they'd all be dead. At least one of the junior legal assistant squirmed.

When Anjelica Delaney presented the prima facie evidence, the photographs taken of the deceased battered face, the defense didn't question it. They had no arguments. Instead they called on experts from the field of neurology and psychology, there was even a retired FBI profiler who all said that the accused's "drug addiction and alcoholism eliminates the requisite mental element for the offence of homicide in the first degree".

The senior barrister, resplendent in his Gucci suit and Ferragamo leather shoes, orated and challenged the Prosecution's case. "The defendant, Mr Scott Packer, doesn't have the mental capacity to form intent because he is **neurologically impaired. His brain is damaged**." In his oration, the lawyer was careful to point to the fact that "Just to be at his own trial, my client had to take Prozac because he's ill."

The defense also presented facts, indisputable they claim that Miss Sonia Kruger was herself a drug user and an alcoholic. Delaney objected fiercely to the malicious portrayal of the deceased, "She's not the one on trial." The parents of the victim, sat impassive on the front row. Mrs Annette Kruger, mother of the deceased had to be removed from the gallery in a state of utter distress. Her father and brother bravely carried on so that she could, in death, be adequately represented.

His defense team knew of his guilt. But they excused their complicity by saying their client's diminished mental capacity was evident. After hearing all sides of the argument, and all the expert testimony money could buy, the Judge asked the Jury to deliberate.

Anjelica Delaney told Jules and Winnie they were free to go, but they decided to stay on. If nothing else to support Anjelica who have had an uphill battle from the start. Underfunded for one and understaffed for another. The Kruger family has means to fight again another day in a civil suit but they would have preferred justice to Sonia.

While the jury deliberated, Winnie asked to speak to Sonia's father. An emissary from the Crown Prosecutor's team was sent to let Mr Wayne Kruger know of Winnie's request, he said he'd be delighted to speak to the brave young lady. They were given privacy. Win and Mr Kruger hugged as if they knew each other. "I just want you to let you know Mr Kruger that Sonia wasn't who they said she was. I held her hands for 15 minutes, in that time it was I though I knew her all my life. She was a beautiful person. You should be proud of her."

Mr Kruger, who at just 55 looked 70 from the stress regarding the criminal case and the sorrow of losing an only daughter, said, "I know. I'm proud of her. We love her so much. We miss her." They chatted for a long while. On her part, Winnie informed Sonia's Dad of available resources for counselling and trauma for victims of violent crimes.

The jury deliberated for less than three hours. It came as no surprise when the verdict came back "Not guilty."

As sad as they were of the outcome, the three women didn't hang around to commiserate with the family. They walked back to the chamber so Winnie could put on her nun's habit. While the defense celebrated their victory, Scott Packer huddled with his bodyguard. "I want the witness. She's pretty and feisty. I'll have fun with her."

The bodyguard, a paid mongrel without conscience and scruples, stood by the door of the chamber to await Winnie's exit. The burly guard was 198 cm (6'6) tall and weighed a hefty 280 pounds of muscles (127 kgs), and current judo champion. A pregnant Constable was no match to this behemoth. Thankfully, Anjelica took them through a secret passageway, so while the mongrel waited at the door, they had already left the building.

Scott Packer was angry beyond words, he's not used to not getting his own way.

The hunt for Scarlatti would intensify. He was the key to finding her – and if it was up to Scott it would be relentless.


	42. Heightened Alert

**Heightened Alert**

Meanwhile, at ORU Spike received a call from Yoh-Lin, "Hey buddy, we need you at the CRIB."

"Hello to you, too. What's wrong with you people? No one taught you guys good manners and right conduct?" He could afford to be cheeky. The Senior Intelligence Officer who was his CSIS handler laughed. There's never been any formality between them.

"If it pleases you, 'Hello Constable Scarlatti'."

Spike smiled, "Buddy I can't go to the CRIB, I'm in lock down along with several miniature Godzillas."

"We're a man down. We need intelligence gathering capability at the moment… everyone not dead has been raised. You're it, man."

"Let me find the CO. Hang in there." Spike looked for the ORU head honcho, "Boss, CSIS," and passed on the phone; he wisely stayed well out of it.

The ORU CO frowned, "Who's this?" Yoh-Lin introduced himself and explained why he needed Scarlatti.

The CO wasn't happy, "Negative. You can go to the University of Toronto and round up all the 18-year-old geeks. Vet them, clear them for duty and you can have them working for you gathering intelligence in no time. But I can't conscript 18-year-old chemistry geniuses and teach them to diffuse bombs in 24 hours. So find yourself another GEEK."

The CO gave him back the phone and said, "Briefing in 10 minutes." Scarlatti made a cute face.

"Well, you heard what he said…"

"I swear to God Scarlatti, I'm going to withhold your pay." Spike laughed, "Sure, sure. You do that and I will double your mortgage." The two geeks had been threatening each other with malicious intent since they met. But their friendship has been tight from the beginning.

Before Spike closed the call, he asked, "When will I see you again? I'm itching to beat you at Scrabble. **Again**."

"That's because you're a cheat. Next week, we play chess. Loser pays for dinner and a bottle of Dom Perignon."

"I beg your pardon. I'm not a cheat. ROFL is in the dictionary."

"Dictionary dot com is **not** a dictionary."

"Yes, it is."

The tinny bellowed, "SCARLATTI!"

"I gotta go! Day and time next week, let me know."

There wasn't much to the briefing anyway, it was more of the same. More chatter. More waiting for updates. More investigations, etc. etc. etc.

After briefing everyone went about the business of comparing notes, sharing techniques of bomb diffusion, learning new ways to make bombs. They might as well use their time wisely.

**At 1700 Hours** an update came through. Five separate vehicles at various intervals were stopped by Customs Officials on both sides of the border. All vehicles were ferrying pool chlorinator purchased in Toronto in tins of baby formula, Milo and other tinned products. The items were being transported to the USA.

Intelligence analysts confirmed that the anarchists were buying the products in Canada so as not to be tracked Stateside. They then transported the products to the US through border crossing. A CIA operative made the comment, "God knows how much of these made it across." The target apparently was the July 4th celebrations.

The plot now exposed, the Canadian assets were free to go. Spike hitched a ride with Toby, another SRU bomb tech. They were ecstatic, "Home sweet home." They listened to radio newscast over the hour long drive home; it's no surprise that Scott Packer was the biggest story of the day. Toby shook his head, "He got away with murder, bloody hell!" Spike expected the outcome but it still shocked him to the core.

Winnie wondered if Spike would call, it's passed the time he normally called to check in with her. Worrying wasn't going to help anyone so she decided to take a luxurious evening bath. She was lying in a tub of foam-filled hot water when Spike stealthily entered the apartment.

His first stop was the computer, _The bastard is free. Heaven knows what he's up to now_. He checked the email and text messages Scott has been sending out from his iPhone. There was a text to a burnt number, "_I want that guy, I want him fucked over. I want that Winnie girl_." It sent chills up and down his spine.

In the inbox was a reply, "We've got three people watching her apartment. No one's home yet but when the roommate returns, we'll give her the third degree. We have people watching SRU 24/7." _Winnie __**AND**__ Georgia are in danger._ It was fast becoming a freaking nightmare.

The only solution was to decapitate the monster, figuratively. He decided Scott Packer has to be sorted. The law was toothless against money, power and connection_. It's time to activate Obi-Wan Kenobi._ First things first though, secure Georgia.

But he was tired, hungry and he could use a foam-filled bath himself. He undressed, put his bathrobe on, walked over to the fridge to get a bottle of red wine and two glass flutes. He whistled "Can't Take My Eyes Off You (I love you, Baby)." before entering the bath, it would be decidedly unromantic if she freak out over his sudden appearance and bash him with a bar of soap.

She heard the tune and smiled, "You're home." Her perfect white teeth dazzled him. "May I join you?" It was a small bath but they didn't care. She made herself smaller so he could get in. With space a premium, there wasn't a lot of bathing to be done, just a lot of cuddling. They toasted to love and happiness; and soaked till the water became unbearably cold.

As soon as they were dressed for the evening, Spike asked her to call Georgia to spend the rest of the week with them. "Are you sure?"

He smiled, "I am. You girls can have the bedroom, I'll have the couch." But Spike didn't anything without rhyme or reason, "Why?" she asked. He hesitated.

"You promised to tell me if…"

"Ok, I supposed it's best that you're fully aware. Scott has people surveilling your apartment. They want to snatch Georgia to make her talk. They think she knows where you are. I want both of you close to me until I can get him sorted, ok."

"Ok, where would you like to meet her?"

He checked the time, "We're going together. Tell her to go to Queen's Train station, 9pm and wait by the ticket window. Tell her to follow a Nun." Winnie smiled, _That's me. _

Winnie told Georgia exactly what Spike said. But the blonde roommate was perplexed, "Are you high or something? What are you up to?"

"I'm not high or anything. We're playing a mystery game. Are you in or not?"

"Mystery game? Hell yeah. I wouldn't miss it for the world. 9pm, ok. I'll be there."

Spike instructed her to wear comfortable clothes underneath her nun's habit. She got the idea; they would be playing cat and mouse in case they were being followed. She wore a black body hugging T-shirt and black thights and her comfy running shoes.

Spike packed his reversible shoulder bag, in it were a black hooded shirt from his own wardrobe, a baseball cap and a green-and-yellow wig . He gave it to Winnie, "As soon as you get to the ladies. Get out of the habit, reverse the bag from blue to red, bag the habit. The shirt and the baseball cap are for Georgia, you get to wear the wig. Are we clear?"

"Where will you be?"

"I'll be following you. If she was followed, I'd be able to spot the tail. I'll take care of them."

Before they left, he fitted Winnie with an ear wig. He went to another room, "Can you hear me?"

She replied, "Copy" it brought on a wide smile.

Spike called a Taxi Company and arranged for a cab to pick them up a block away. "All set?" She smiled confidently. _This is definitely way better than being kept in the dark_. Spike gave her a scooter, her faced lit up, "Seriously?"

"Yup, you're the scooting Nun. And I'm you're scooting bodyguard."

She was so happy she didn't notice the pair of inline skates, laces tied together, hanging around Spike's neck. His favourite K2 Mach 90 Inline Skates. They got to the corner block in time for the Taxi cab. "Queen's Train station."

They split up once they got to Queen's Train Station. Winnie left the scooter with Spike to look for Georgia who was also on the look-out for a Nun. They spotted each other at nearly the same time. Her roommate didn't recognise her but followed as instructed.

From a distance Spike pinged the two tails. He put on his inline skates, skated after the tails and whacked them with the scooters. They were out in an instant. Spike followed Winnie and Georgia to the ladies and waited discreetly outside.

When they came out Georgia was laughing obviously tinkled pink; but Winnie was scowling. The yellow-and-green wig was Halloween get-up. Spike pinched her cheeks and said, "You're beautiful to me."

He gave the ladies the scooters, took the bag from Winnie, "Everything in here?" She nodded.

"Well, let's go. Scoot away." It was the most fun they've ever had in one night, and they even got around to eat dinner at a nameless place downtown.

It was midnight when they got home. Exhausted the women fell asleep quickly. But he wasn't done. It's time for Obi-Wan Kenobi.


	43. Confessions of Obi-wan Kenobi and

_Author's Note: I don't own Obi-Wan Kenobi but I love him and I think he's wonderful. He fitted the story so I borrowed him. I'm sure George Lucas won't mind._

**Confessions of Obi-Wan Kenobi and ...**

The malware in Scott's iPhone kept Spike in the loop of what the homicidal maniac was up to. The evening news report said that there was a party being thrown at his Rosedale mansion to celebrate his win. _Time to give Scott Packer some good news_. Spike changed into an all-black ensemble from head to toe.

From his workshop, he took a S3 Spyder III Arctic Laser from a concealed safe. The high tech gadget was a dream come true for Spike. He dream t of holding a light saber since he saw Star Wars as a four year old. Now, he has the world's most powerful portable laser, a real life light saber if there ever was one.

The main part of the gadget is the "Torch" – the flashlight so bright it could set things on fire. His personal choice was the blue laser; it also came in krypton green but he didn't fancy the thing that makes Superman weak at the knees. It emits laser light so hot it takes literally two seconds on the skin before one feel it burn, and it's not a normal burn either – but one you'll feel under your skin. Spike had tested the gadget on just about everything. He was able to set paper, cardboard, and pieces of wood on fire with little to no difficulty.

The S3 Spyder III Arctic Laser is so powerful its beam can go OVER 6800 meters or just over four miles. It comes with a lot of fancy stuff but they weren't needed; for tonight, all Spike wanted was its light saber functionality.

He left the Apartment around one in the morning. He didn't call for a taxi this time, he was going to drive. His new number plate was ready for collection; so whatever he did with his car now wouldn't matter. He went down to the garage. His trusty 1985 6-series BMW coupe started up quickly. The 27-year old car didn't have GPS tracking device, a way to remain invisible in a world where hiding in plain sight has become more and more difficult. The Techie was one of few people around who knew how to still remain in the shadows.

He drove towards the Packer mansion, parked the car about ten blocks away. He put on his inline skates, he stowed a pair of black canvas shoes inside one of his cargo pants' big pockets. He left his wallet and badge in the car for safe keeping. Around Rosedale, no one would steal a 27-year-old car. Why bother when car nappers were spoil t for choice; a Lamborghini here, a Lotus Esprit there, or maybe a Porsche.

He skated to the mansion and was there in no time. In the darkness, wearing all-black, he moved like a phantom. Using the laser beam from his light saber he took out exposed cameras of adjoining properties, apologising as he went about the sabotage. That done, he took out the cameras at the house; security personnel were distracted by the sudden malfunction. As they converged in the security depot trying to work out what happened; Spike, with his back against the perimeter gate, removed his skates and put on his canvas shoes. He stealthily walked up the path to the main house, popping lamps ahead with the blue laser beam as he went along. By the time he reached the front door, the garden path was spookily dark.

He entered the house unnoticed for the simple reason everyone were either stupidly drunk or high with narcotics; even those paid to look after the principal of the mansion. He walked around like he belonged at the party. He found Scott Packer, looking the worse for wear on a recliner and smashed out of his brains. He draped the maniac's arm over his shoulder, "Where are you taking me?" he asked groggily.

Spike didn't bother replying; they side-stepped several bodies before they reached the stairs. As they were preparing to ascend, they bumped into one of the guards, "Where are you taking him?"

Scarlatti acted dismayed, "To the toilet, man. Or would you prefer to do it?"

The other guy smirked, "Better you than me."

"Right, out of my way then." The guard got out of their way. He shook his head in amazement, how he got away with that boggled the mind.

He carried the multimillionaire upstairs, opened one heavy door, a bathroom. _Great_. He sat Scott on the floor while he filled the tub with water; that done, he threw him in. The scion of the Packer dynasty thrashed about gulping water as he did so.

The dunking seemed to bring Scott to his senses, "Who the fuck are you?"

Spike leaned languidly on the vanity, his arms crossed on his chest, "I heard you've been looking for me."

"How did you get in?" Scott tried to get up from the tub, Spike pushed him back in. He turned on his laser and aimed the beam on the maniac's face. In two seconds he felt burning sensation, he screamed, "I'm burning, I'm burning." Spike switched the laser off.

"Fuck you, I'll have you arrested."

"Arrest me for what? I can kill you and leave no forensic evidence. There won't be any shell casing. No gunshot residue. No shell fragments. And how do you suppose they'll perform forensics on laser beam?"

"What do you want?"

"I don't **ever** want you near Winnie Camden. Not anywhere near her apartment, not anywhere near where she works. Or, I will kill you."

Scott Packer laughed his face off, "You're a cop. You're a bloody cop. SRU. Wait till I tell my lawyer about this. I'll have your badge."

"Really," said Spike. He turned on the laser and pointed it on the water, within seconds, the surface bubbled. It was starting to boil. Scott freaked, "Fucking turn that thing off."

"You know what …. I'm not in the business of giving people, even assholes like you, their expiration date but I swear on my father's grave I will kill you if one strand of Winnie's hair gets out of place. Do you understand me? Am I making myself clear?" Scott nodded.

"If I ever find out you've got people after her, you will die a very painful death. Is that clear?" Scott nodded mutely; he seemed to have lost his power of speech.

"Give me one more excuse, and I will erase you from the face of the earth. Understand?" Scott nodded again. Having made himself clear, Spike left the bathroom but hid inside one of the rooms. Not long after he left, Packer followed suit. Swearing his head off; and cursing the nameless Italian's forebears.

Scarlatti checked his phone; he was certain Scott would make a call. And, he did. _Very predictable._ Spike recorded it. As soon as Scott hanged up, he entered the room and blast Scott with a blue laser beam, singeing his hair. The smell of burning hair was enough to panic the monster.

"I told you I would know… call it off - NOW!" Scott Packer dialled the same number and did as Spike asked. That done, Scarlatti opened the balcony door; then turned to addressed the monster, "You have a choice, burn or jump."

"You're fucking crazy."

The Italian tilted his head to one side, narrowed his eyes and spoke with undisguised menace, "I told you if you give me an excuse, I will kill you. Now move." Scott moved til he reached the balcony. He looked down. What he saw made him smile. Down below was the biggest, deepest, freaking private pool in the country. If the choice was to burn or to jump, it was a no-brainer. He'd jumped.

"Go ahead, jump."

Scott laughed his head off, except he didn't do the math. The pool wasn't exactly under the balcony. He missed the water by inches, enough to whack his head.

Spike didn't look down. The honourable SRU cop walked back casually to the perimeter, remove his black canvas shoes, put his skates back on and away he went.

He was home by 2:30 in the morning. He turned on the television to catch the breaking news: The female news anchor has just announced "Remorseful Packer committed suicide". Spike was surprised at the outcome but slept like a baby anyway.

Spike woke up at eight in the morning to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, he half expected to feel bad about what happened but he didn't. Not that he needed to rationalised it to himself, after all it was Scott's choice to jump. _He could have chosen to be burnt by laser, nothing a cosmetic surgeon couldn't fix. But like always, he chose what he perceived to be the easy way out._

Winnie gave him a smacking good morning kiss, "Georgia's still sleeping."

"Let her sleep, come cuddle with me."

"I'm so ready to go back to work," she said. "I missed everybody." He kissed the top of her head, "I miss you when you're not there."

Spike felt especially vindicated when nearly a dozen women came clean about being victimised by Scott. One of them permanently paralysed after one episode of severe bashing. They were too afraid to say anything. No one's afraid now.

Winnie returned to work on Friday to grand applause. She didn't know what for. In all honesty, she didn't think of herself as heroic, it was just something she had to do for Sonia; and to a lesser extent for herself.

To her amazement, in her absence HQ become quasi-betting central, much to her amusement. She said she totally understand the fascination over Baby Braddock. But over Spike's love life?. "Why?" she asked.

"Why not", they said.

Everyone was happy, thank God it being Friday, but as the day wore on Spike got quieter and quieter and quieter. It didn't escaped Sgt Greg Parker's notice, he gave the Techie the eye, and a barely there swing of the head in the direction of Briefing Room. One which meant "Follow me." He scratched his head and followed, he glanced in Winnie's direction whose smile made him smile back.

The Boss instructed the despatcher to "Hold all calls unless…"

"…It's a 'hot call'."

"Thanks, Winnie."

Spike closed the door behind him, sat opposite Greg. "Boss…."

The cherubic-faced Sargent beamed _that_ smile that could melt a glacier, "We received reports this morning of fried cameras in the Rosedale area…"

Spike looked down at the table, studied the wood grain and traced a line with his finger. "You wanna know if I had anything to do with it?" The Boss simply nodded. He didn't lie. Not to the Boss he couldn't.

"Yeah, Boss, that was me." Parker waited for him to continue. He looked directly at Greg; in whose eyes were neither condemnation nor judgment. But there was compassion and concern for him there.

"Yes, I was there. I gave him a choice. He chose to jump."

"And the other option being…?"

"To burn."

"What exactly did you mean by...burn?" In answer to the query, he removed the Spyder Arctic Laser from his pocket, slid it across the table to Parker. The Sargent looked at the object with inquisitive eyes, "How does it work?"

Spike explained how to turn it on. Blue laser light beamed out, Greg whistled, shook his head and said "Blimey."

"I would have marked him with that."

Parker turned off the Gadget to continue with the Q and A, "Would you have killed him?"

"Nope…"

Parker looked at him in utter disbelief, "You didn't think it'll kill him to jump?"

"Nope… the height from the balcony to the ground was 12 feet (3.76 metres give or take a few). At worse he would have suffered a few broken leg bones and a concussion. I've been thinking a lot about it….. There's more to the story and I intend to find out what it is." Parker couldn't help but be impressed he _actually_ calculated the distance between floors, _Whoever does that?_

"If you had no intention of killing him, then why did you.."

"Why? Because I needed him to understand I mean business. I told him if he tried anything on Winnie again, I would kill him. He obviously didn't believe me because the first thing he did after I warned him was to order a hit on her." Spike played the voice recording. The dead man's voice chilled the Sargent to the bone, "KILL THE FUCKING BITCH." Parker closed his eyes and exhaled.

Steely silence enveloped the room. The tension so thick that it was suffocating both of them. It seemed an eternity passed before Greg spoke again, "Does that bother you that he's dead?"

He shook his head from side-to-side. "No," he said with conviction.

The Boss was taken by surprise, "No? You could have fooled me."

He looked down at his hands, looked up as his eyes watered, "What bothers me Boss is that it doesn't bother me? Does that make me a monster?"

Greg smiled, "That, Spike, you're NOT. I'd fail to find a more compassionate human being but something happened that night. You need to talk to someone."

Spike nodded, after a minute silence he simply said, "Thanks Boss." There was really nothing left to say. Parker rubbed his face. _It's an impossible situation._

Meanwhile, in a confessional box somewhere, a priest heard a confession from a gentleman.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

The priest leaned closer to better hear the man. "I killed someone in retribution for murdering my daughter."

The gentleman spoke softly, slowly as if in a trance, guilt weighing heavily on him. "I found him lying on the ground. He was just lying there...bleeding… but he was still swearing, saying, 'Fucking help me up.' I looked at him with disdain. Anger welled up inside me. I kept seeing my beautiful daughter. He beat her mercilessly. There wasn't a bone that wasn't broken, she was so badly beaten we didn't recognise her. We had to do a DNA test." A pityingly sad sound escaped from his throat, as if he was being strangled. He cried a sorrowful lament, his body wracked with pain, his soul damaged and his mind impaired with anguish.

"I helped him up and pushed him into the pool. I watched him drown. I stood there and watched until he wasn't moving. Until I know he wasn't going to hurt another man's daughter."

The priest watched as the gentleman rocked slowly back and forth; when he was certain the believer has finished his confession he blessed him, "Son, I absolve you from your sins. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

"For your penance, I asked that you go to police and make a confession of your crime." The gentleman thanked the priest. He left the confessional box with his head held high; as if the confession pulled a thorn from his soul.

He went to the police to confess his crime and was promptly arrested. By late afternoon, it was all over the news: Father of Sonia Kruger Confessed to Killing Packer.

Greg watched as Spike walked away. And for a time gloom hovered in the City …


	44. Moppet Bridget Scarlatti

**Moppet Bridget Scarlatti**

During the period of Spike's self-imposed exile, Winnie did her best to maintain her life, including volunteering at an animal shelter as time permitted, with Liley in tow. It helped her managed her own grief; but she really took more from it than she gave.

It didn't take long before she discovered that she's a natural with animals, especially dogs. One day she came home telling Spike about one particular puppy, "so delightful and such a survivor. You should meet this puppy before she's adopted out. She absolutely amazing."

One day after shift he went to the animal shelter. Win and Liley were overseeing several puppies out for an exercise in the yard. Win waved him in and introduced him to a very playful three-legged golden retriever. "She's about two months old. She was brought here by a member of the public."

"Was she born with three legs?"

"No, the vet said she was born healthy. Someone chopped off one of her legs." Spike wasn't prepared for that. "That's just sick!" Winnie said that's not the half of it, "Some of the things some people do to their pets can only be described as barbaric."

Spike knelt down to play with the puppy, "We call her Moppet." And, Moppet seemed to be in like with Spike. "Miss Sunshine, I have an idea."

"No, you don't. Don't even think about it. Perish the thought!"

"Please Miss Sunshine. We have a lot of love to give, and Liley needs a sister."

"No, she doesn't. We may have a lot of love to give but we don't have a lot of space. No. The answer is 'no'."

Spike picked up Moppet , "How can you say 'no' to such a pretty thing?"

"You're trying to wear me down and it's not working. Go away! Go! We're busy. Put Moppet down, she needs the exercise."

Spike put the dog down, after a few minutes, he started again, "What can I do to make you say 'yes'?"

Exasperated, Winnie turned her nose at Spike, "You've got to be realistic, Angel boy. Two dogs! don't think Mom and Dad can look after two, it'd be too much for them."

"Hold your horses," he dialled the Camden's residence.

"Hi Mom, its Spike." Winnie's eyebrow went up. "Can I ask you a question? Would it be too much for you if we adopted another dog."

"No? You're sure? Thanks. I'll tell Win."

Spike turned to Winnie, smirking, "It's ok."

She knew when she was beaten. "I'll get the adoption paper." Spike filled it up and nominated the name Moppet Bridget Scarlatti. When all the papers were done, Spike brightened up again, "I have an idea."

"No, not another one."

He smiled his silly smile, "Moppet is a golden retriever, right? I can train her to sniff for bombs." Winnie grabbed a pair of scissors and pointed it at him. Spike pointed a finger gun at her and said, "Drop your weapon."

Next day, Spike called Greg to ask permission to bring his daughter to work, Greg assumed he meant Liley. To their surprise, it's a two month old pup, cute as. Bright, sprightly and intelligent. Everyone was smitten but there was one problem, unlike Liley who was happy to sit next to Winnie and be out of the way, this one only wanted to be with Spike and followed him around. SRUs were tripping all over the little golden retriever.

To placate everyone, he led Moppet down the basement to work on Babycakes. With just the two of them, Super Geek got a lot of work done but he was curious, "What if Moppet can be taught to sniff for bombs? How cool would that be?"

He called Billy, the kid.

"Hey Billy, you busy?"

"Day off? Good, meet me at the Basement, there's someone I want you to meet."

"One more thing, don't say a word to anyone, that's an order."

Half an hour later, Billy was at the Basement with Spike and having the time of her life playing with Moppet. "So what's this about?"

Spike whispered conspiratorially, "Do you think Moppet can be trained as a sniffer dog?"

Billy's eyes widened, "Does Winnie know what you're even thinking?" Spike shook his head to indicate 'no.'

"Oh, you're asking me to be an accessory to your deviousness," she chastised unimpressed but followed it up with, "Truthfully, she can. And I think she'll be a good one. Her personality is amazing. If you want to try her out, RCMP Canine Squad can give her a trial."

"Why do you even want to train her to sniff for bombs?"

"It's just a thought."

One fine day, father and daughter went to sniffer school. Cool.

One fine day at the park, everyone would be glad they did!


	45. One Fine Day

**One Fine Day**

It's a rare day out for the Camden-Scarlatti Team. Liley and Winnie; Spike and Moppet. They tried switching team members once before but it didn't work. Moppet was too in love with Dad. Spike didn't mind, he got plenty of attention from people, especially women, because of his adorable three-legged canine. Winnie thought he was deliberately trying to impress the fairer sex, not that it worried her in the least.

They were a sight to behold, the two canines, happy and healthy both. Liley, two years and Moppet six months old, give or take, given that no one really knew their dates of birth. Spike found Liley in a crevice in a National Park on the way to Thunder Bay in the Spring, an arrow sticking out one of her legs. It's amazing how she managed to survive such a traumatic injury without so much a limp.

They followed the same route each time. From the apartment building they turn right at the corner and then straight all the way to the park. They always stopped to buy Gelato from the Ice Cream vendor, Angel boy insisting that the dogs must have their share. It's not open for discussion so Winnie let them have it their way.

It's still early enough for the two dogs to be allowed vigorous exercise. Too much running in the heat could cause cardiac arrest on the very thick coated Antarctic dog. Domesticated Canadian Eskimos dogs have adapted to life in the City, away from the ice and snow of the North but they still have to be managed carefully. There's always plenty of water on hand for Liley.

Winnie didn't know it yet but Moppet has been going to bomb sniffing school, "every now and then" and practiced regularly at the Basement with Dad. It was just for guilty pleasure, it's not as if Moppet was going to be put to work, it was just for fun. It's like being able to say, "My child plays Mozart." In Moppet and Spike's case, it's to be able to say, "My dog can sniff bombs."

They've spent nearly an hour at the park this time however, they decided to change their route on the way home to have coffee and cake at a dog-friendly café near Spike's apartment. Moppet went berserk at a park trash bin. Instinctively, Spike knew this could mean a bomb maybe in it. _But how do I tell Winnie what I suspect without causing injury to myself?_ Good question. Here's an idea. "Miss Sunshine, would you kindly take them to the coffee shop, I just need to do something important."

Call it woman's instinct. Miss Sunshine wasn't buying any of it. She had long suspected that Spike and Moppet were up to no good when they go away for hours at a time, or "work in the Basement at HQ."

"You think there's a bomb in there, don't you?" Spike nodded. "Please, Win, take the dogs."

"What are you going to do? Please tell me you're not going to do anything stupid!"

"No, I won't. I'm calling it in but I'll have to stay close to warn people not to come near."

Winnie hesitated but did his bidding when he pulled his phone to report the possibility of a bomb in the bin. It took just under seven minutes for RCMP bomb squad to arrive. And who better to deal with it than Little Billy herself.

"How'd you know there's a bomb in there?" she said cheekily. "If there's none, I will get the City to fine you for malicious misuse of Police Resources."

Spike smiled, "I don't know for sure but it sent Moppet berserk. She detected something. She's been a very good student." Billy used a tool called EASYTEC-XP to detect for explosives and chemical warfare agents. It's an efficient instrument, capable of detecting even trace elements. "There's something nasty in there," Billy confirmed.

"You, out! You don't have to be here, mate. It's all in good hands," Spike mock saluted Billy and walked away. He joined his family at the coffee house and watched the proceedings with great interest from a safe distance. "It sure is nice to be out of harm's way." But even as he said that, he said a short prayer for Billy and company. "Keep them safe."

Uniforms were called in to set-up a wide perimeter to ensure the public's safety. And for good measure, other trash bins were sniffed, for a lack of a better word, for explosive and chemical elements. "All good," reported Billy to HQ. It's now up to the City Detectives to find out who planted it there and why. _It's all in a day's work_.

Spike looked at Winnie and was about to gloat, Winnie gave her a stern face, "Don't say it." But then Spike caught her patting Moppet's head. _Good dog!_


	46. Wordy's Wisdom

I'd like to thank Aerosmith for the song, "I don't Want to Miss a Thing." Lyrics were taken from the public domain and used only for a non-profit purpose.

I don't own anything but a house with a leaky roof and two cats.

**Wordy's Wisdom**

It's been a year since Spike first really noticed Winnie. They have been through a number of ups and downs. There has been a lot of discussions, domestics, jealousies, threats and crisis of faith. They've been tested in many ways and been able to survive them all reasonably well. Spike was beginning to feel something's lacking. Like all couples, their relationship has come to a plateau.

SRU Team One scheduled a second couples' night celebration: another Welcome Back, Spike – Round Two. Welcome back from the gloom and doom of months gone by. It took three months to organise the celebration due to conflicting schedules of everyone invited.

The gathering was amazing to say the least. There was the drinking, and singing now part of the ritual, and the ribbings of course.

At one point during the night, Spike and Wordy found themselves in the men's room at the same time. Wordy asked how they've been coursing along and Spike said, "very well." He didn't know what prompted him to ask, but ask he did. "Wordy, how did you know it's Shell you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?"

Wordy leaned on the sink, "Believe it or not, it's listening to Aerosmith's 'I Don't Want to Miss a Thing' that made me realised it was her I didn't want to miss a thing with. It sounds corny but it's true.

"Like you, I was happy and contented with my relationship but I also knew I wanted more. More commitment, more meaning. That song came on the radio one night while I was thinking about the two of us. You should listen to it sometime."

Then Wordy turned pensive, "You know that song may not mean anything to you, or may not mean to you like it meant to me. But one day there'll be a song or a poetry or a movie that will rouse something within you and you'll know."

As always, they all gathered at the car park saying "See you later". Spike thanked Wordy for the advice and said that he'll keep him in the loop.

When they reached home Wordy asked Shell to wait up for him, "Don't go to bed, sit there for a minute." He went to the garage and brought out his old guitar. He hasn't played it for a long time. Wordy set up his laptop with the camera on the coffee table, he turned it on, and made sure that they were both in the frame. He took his guitar out and tuned it.

Wordy, the musically gifted gentle giant, was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease over a year ago. He has been taking medication to help ease the symptoms but he knew its only a matter of time, he once said, _"I'm a ticking time bomb."_

"Shell, I might not be able to play the guitar for too much longer, so while I still can, I want to play our song for you. I'm going to record this... for us and the kids. Shell, you're the one person in the world I wouldn't want to miss a thing with."

The second Wordy strummed the strings, Shell was in tears. All the words came back to Kevin Wordsworth as the first time he heard it on the radio many years ago.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While you're far away and dreaming

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Where every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't want to close my eyes

I don't want to fall asleep

Cause I'd miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating

And I'm wondering what you're dreaming

Wondering if it's me you're seeing

Then I kiss your eyes

And thank God we're together

I just want to stay with you in this moment forever

Forever and ever

I don't want to close my eyes

I don't want to fall asleep

Cause I'd miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

I don't want to miss one smile

I don't want to miss one kiss

I just want to be with you

Right here with you, just like this

I just want to hold you close

Feel your heart so close to mine

And just stay here in this moment

For all the rest of time Yeah yeah yeah

I don't want to close my eyes

I don't want to fall asleep

Cause I'd miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

I Don't want to close my eyes

I don't want to fall asleep

Cause I'd miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you babe

And I don't want to miss a thing

Don't want to close my eyes

I don't want to fall asleep

And I don't want to miss a thing

**Wordy didn't have to add anything more, the song said it all! He also knew deep down that he would keep singing songs and strumming his guitar for as long as he could, as often as he could. He would leave his family a gift of love, of music, of a time when his hands were steady and of the man he always was.**


	47. Boom Boom

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated dawnpritchard66 and tmvg. _

_I'd like to thank tmvg for her very instructive review regarding "The Trial." As a law student, of which I'm not, she pointed out that Mr Packer would have got away with homicide, but should have been convicted with manslaughter. Please bear this in mind in case you're tempted to use to the same defence. __**(smile-y) **__But for consistency, please allow me to continue to use to same defence with impunity, ala-Law and Order._

_Hope you like this fun, fluffy chapter._

**BOOM BOOM**

Gloom lifted after much of the controversy has died down… Mr Kruger received what Packer didn't, the City's morale support. No one disputed he was wrong, morally wrong, to take matter into his own hands, but many were of the opinion that he did give the Law a chance. Talk-back radio lawyers who never once attended a lecture in criminal law, let alone read a book on the subject, say let the man free, for he too was "mentally impaired at the commitment of the crime".

Anjelica Delaney refused to head the Prosecution's side. "I'm due for a holiday and I'm taking it" was her official excuse; but was overheard to say in private, "Over my dead body…" Her legal assistant allegedly replied, "I don't blame you."

**It was a summer of change – a summer of record heat **

Toronto broke its all-time temperature record on the 4th of July when the mercury climbed to 36.6°C, the hottest day of the summer so far. Environment Canada said that the humidity made it feel like mid-40s and warned of "torrid temperatures and high humidity" in more than a dozen communities across southern Ontario in a special weather statement issued that morning.

It was also a summer of romantic heat, promise and changes at SRU.

The days and the weeks that followed were full of promise and changes. Sam and Jules have reached another milestone in their relationship, being the first trimester of their pregnancy. Everyone cheered and it was a cause for celebration, "Any excuse really," said Donna Sabine, Boss of Team Three.

"So… do you have the picture?" asked Spike Scarlatti, who could barely contain his excitement. He wanted to be at the ultrasound appointment with the golden couple but Sam Braddock refused his tag-along offer.

Sam smiled, "Yeah, the baby is amazing. Strong heart beat." The photograph was passed along til it reached Scarlatti who scrutinise the photo, very closely, then jumped up in the air, "It's a boy. We're having a baby boy."

Sam playfully punched him, "We," pointing at himself and Jules, "are having a baby. It doesn't include you."

"How do you know it's a boy?" they asked laughing.

In his usual over excited self, big brown eyes wide open, he said, "Cos it's got a willy."

Sgt Parker who was standing next to him gave his head a back slap. "Ouch, Boss, it's true. Look," he showed the print to Greg and pointed out what he perceived to be the baby's private. "Unless Jules swallowed a baton…. it's a willy."

After much banter, Ed broke it up, "Alright, put that away. Gym time." He feigned anger at Sgt Parker, "Someone has to wield the stick around here. All mamby-pamby…" The Boss smiled and went back to do what he hated most…. writing reports.

Leah made it a point to do yoga regularly with Jules at work. Sitting in a lotus position, face to face, the Haitian sighed and thought to herself, _She's soooo beautiful to look at_. Smooth fair complexion, pink cheeks, clear eyes, firm body; and good, healthy lungs - she could see it in her regulated breathing.

Before she could thoughtfully process her words, Leah blurted out, "Jules, I soooo wanna be pregnant just so I can glow like you." Callaghan got so distracted by the unexpected remark they finished in fits of laughter.

Among the many changes, ass-kicking Jules has come to accept that things would not be the same, her priorities have changed. She accepted those changes weren't because she's less capable; but rather because there's someone relying fully on her for protection.

There's only been one occasion when the Team had to remind her, when she got all eager to chase a bad guy, that "Before Scarlatti, there was Callaghan," that she's just as effective in the Command Truck. They cross-train for this reason; so none of them was indispensable. What Spike could do in the Truck, she could do just as well. Should anything come up that required fancy codes and gadget-y stuff, Spike was just a comm link away.

One thing Jules hated about her new circumstance, but which she also liked in equal measure,was being the object of everyone's affection. She complained to Sam, "I feel as if I've got 10 helicopter husbands hovering over me all the time. I can't drop a pen without all these men tripping all over themselves to pick it up." Sam just laugh at her.

The only two men not inclined to hover were Greg Parker and Ed Lane, they said they knew better than to mess with pregnant women. However as to her complaint, the two wise men advised that she should "milk it" instead.

Ed whispered conspiratorially to Jules, "That's six months of pampering. Go for it."

Greg added, "Enjoy it while it last."

She reckoned these were wise words, and because she's a quick study, she said with a twinkle in her eyes, "Why not?"

In Winnie's case, it was the polar opposite; no one else could hover but Spike. He never seemed to leave _that_ particular spot in front of her. One day, Fearless Leader Ed Lane came bursting through the meeting room to have a man-to-man chat with Sgt Parker. "Greg, what's the solution here?"

Parker was startled, "I didn't know we have a problem."

Ed pointed in the direction of the despatch desk, "Look at him, look at him. If he gives Winnie another beautiful eyes I swear to God I will thump him."

Greg looked out and chuckled, "Come on Ed, he was always hanging around her even before they were an item. It's nothing new."

Ed Lane glared at the Boss, "N**ot** like that," as he pointed in their direction. To aggravate matter, Spike wheeled a chair next to Winnie just as Ed Lane turned to look at them, "I swear Greg he hasn't been productive since they started going out."

Greg smiled sagely. "Give it time. It'll all simmer down." The Team Leader looked at the Sargent like he just landed from the moon, "You think so. Well, we'll see about that. You said the same thing about his robot and now it's got a name."

The Boss sighed. His Team Leader has a very valid point. "When we get a breather we'll fix their schedules so they'll only overlap by four to six hours." The Fearless Leader was satisfied with the suggestion. "Let's hope it's soon. They're so sweet they're giving me a toothache." Greg the closet romantic smiled, he actually quite liked the fact that everyone's in love.

Upon Ed's exit out of the briefing room, Spike happened to hold hands with Winnie and that's where the Fearless Leader drew the line, he looked at Spike with menace, "Cease and desist, right now. Right now! No holding hands in the station." The Techie made a show of keeping his hands to himself by sitting on them, Winnie laughed her head off.

The next day, after the big baby reveal, Spike came to work with a mini Babycakes, his own creation. The same blue robot Jules saw in his workshop at Apartment 7.

"Hey, what's that?" squealed Winnie.

"It's Boom Boom."

Every one gathered round the mini Babycakes. Spike presented Jules with the remote, "It's for our baby boy. He's called Boom Boom. Oh, I also made a girl. Her name is Bam Bam."

Ed couldn't believe what he just heard, "Did he say 'Boom Boom and Bam Bam'?" Everyone doubled over in laughter. Spike was defensive, he said,"What's so funny? They all have names with B." Regardless of everyone's reaction to it, Jules was tickled pink, "Oh my God, thank you Spike. Can it do anything?"

"Oh yeah."

The Techie quickly went to the staff room to get a glass of water and placed it in the hand of the robot. "Press this button to turn it on, use this lever to make it move." The robot brought the glass of water, without spilling its content, to Winnie. Everyone clapped. "He's made from recycled stuff, so he's environmental friendly." Sam watched in amazement. _All this excitement for a robot._

After shift, Spike brought Winnie home. It's her turn to cook dinner. Spike avoided the kitchen as he couldn't stand the mess.

"How's Georgia?"

Win brightened up and excitedly shared her flatmates news, "She's goin' backpacking around the world next month so I'll have to look for a smaller apartment. A one-bedder and somewhere more affordable."

Spike watched her and thought he could get use to the sight of her cooking in his kitchen, "Why don't we move in together?"

Win smiled; gazed back at him and said, "It's early days Spike."

He pouted, "It's not early days, it's been 10 months and two weeks." Win chuckled, "You're so geeky."

"Is that good or bad?"

She threw a towel at him. He sparked up, "So you're throwing in the towel …"

"No, Spike. I'm not. Come let's have dinner."

Over meatloaf, salad and bread roll, Winnie thanked him for what he did for Sam and Jules, "That was such a grand gesture."

"I know right!"

She chuckled again, for like the hundredth time that day, "And you're so humble."

The night ended with the two of them in bed. Naked bodies intertwined, half her body on top of him, her face on his chest, her leg hooked over his torso, his right leg around her left, his left arm caressing her face.

She said to him, "I didn't think you'd still want me… after you've seen me in my worse."

"Huh?" he said, curious to find out where this was coming from.

"Well, you've seen me bruised, seen my uncontrollable steel wool hair, seen me in mismatched pajamas, cotton night gown. And you still want me…"

He lifted her face up so to gaze upon her face, "If this is the worse you can be, then I consider myself a very lucky man."

She was momentarily speechless. _This man_, she thought, _makes me smile, laugh and cry_. _I am a very lucky girl._

"Tell me again what love is according to Gabe."

"_Love isn't about ridiculous little words. Love is about grand gestures. Love is about airplanes pulling banners over stadiums, proposals on jumbo-trons, giant words in sky writing. Love is about going that extra mile even if it hurts, letting it all hang out there. Love is about finding courage inside of you that you didn't even know was there."_

This time, she recited it with him.


	48. The Beautiful Game

_Author's Note: Perseus and Jason were featured in the multi-chapter "A Man called Perseus." For back story, please read it. _

_This chapter dedicated to Justicerocks and vguz04. _

**The Beautiful Game**

It was gearing up to be another very hot summer day. To avoid heat stroke, Sam and Jules went for a walk very early on a rare day off. Their robot went with them to the park much to the amusement of onlookers. Sam commented to Jules that honestly, attracting the public was all the robot was good for. "It can bring you a glass of water but can't get it for me. I still have to get up, get a glass, fill it with water, put it in his hands and drive him. I might as well bring it to you."

He had to admit though it made them the most popular couple in the park. It wasn't long before they were surrounded by people wanting to know what it could do. When asked if it has a name, Sam said, "R2D2 2." Jules nudged him. He looked at her in mock horror, "No way I'm gonna tell them its name is Boom Boom."

They went home before the temperature soared to unbearable level; it was a scorcher of a day. Jules lounged on the bean bag, and put her feet up on the coffee table. Sam watched her with amused eyes; he never would have imagined that one day he'd find for himself an unpretentious pony-tailed warrior-princess.

He pottered in the kitchen to make a light lunch when he noticed a pile of still unopened mail. In the middle of the pile was a postcard, _Isles of Kalymnos_. It's been over three months since his mini-adventure up North. He flipped it and smiled at the words, I am and he is, underneath them written in big bold letters, STRANOPOULOUS. _So he's the father._

The blonde warrior brought over two plates of sandwiches and two glasses of juice in a tray, set it before Jules. He gave her the postcard to read. Intrigued, she sat up straighter to peruse the card and arrived at the same conclusion, "So he's the father and they made it back to Kalymnos. Back where it all begun."

Sam nostalgically added, "Yup, they've gone full circle."

They both looked at it again. "This squiggly drawing… does it mean anything?" Sam studied it closely, his brain searched stored information, "It's the route they took in their fishing boat to get back home."

Jules was aghast, "Sam, seriously, he crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a fishing boat with a baby on-board. Well, that's just insane."

The blonde warrior laughed, "It's not a leaky, reekity fishing boat. It's a top-class commercial boat. He was ex-Navy Seal so he'd know where to cross it and when. And it's very likely he navigated with an experienced crew." He paused to rub her belly, "He wouldn't put Jason at risk, same way I wouldn't put you and the baby at risk."

She smiled, grateful for the protective nature of her partner, "Did you wanna know if we were having a boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't matter to me, girl or boy, it's the same. Did you wanna know?"

Jules sniggered, "Not really but Dr Scarlatti was convinced we're having a boy."

"Well, I wouldn't take his word for it. Let's reserve judgment after the baby's born."

They ate their light lunch and laid side-by-side on the cool wooden floor, the veranda's bi-fold door was left open to let the breeze circulate. But even with the electric fans on, the heat and the humidity was unbearable. "It must be hard carrying a child in this heat."

"That's why you gotta look after me," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"What do you want me to do, princess? Your wish is my command."

"Get my bath ready, please?" Sam kissed her lips, then her belly, "Coming right up."

Winnie and Spike waited out the hottest day in air-conditioned comfort. First off the to-do list was light brunch in a fancy Italian restaurant. This was followed by a movie date, _The Dark Knight Rises _was having its second week-end, and Spike would not be denied. They left the cinema just as the temperature cooled a little.

"Let's go play football."

"You mean soccer, right?" she asked just to confirm they were on the same page. Spike nodded so she said, "Sure."

They went back to Spike's apartment so he could change into his Azurri jersey. She, not having the required sports attire, wore her hockey jersey. The Italian teasingly said, "Are you asking to be lynched at the park?" She playfully punched him, "You're there to defend me."

Win was surprised to see how full the park was and they all seemed to know him. She lost count of kids who called him Uncle, "Spike for someone who's an only child, you sure have a lot of nephews and nieces."

"They're my cousins' kids."

Confounded, she asked, "How many cousins do you have?"

"Well, Mom had three siblings and Dad had seven. In all I have… let's see," he counted them on his fingers, "35. I have 35 cousins."

"And they all live in Canada."

"Nope…only fifteen in Canada, five in the US, fifteen back in Italy."

"Wow, your family's like a virus… they're everywhere." Spike jokingly put her in a head lock just as Signora Elisabetta arrived with food and drinks for Team Italia. She barked, "Release that poor woman, at once" in Italian.

She learned a lot about Spike that day, and had a preview of what she might expect when they get to Italy for a holiday. Spike has asked her to accompany him home as his _wingman_, "_Keep all my aunts from wondering why I'm still single._"

She replied, flirtingly, with a meaningful wink, "_What's in it for me?_"

"_All the homemade wine you can drink_."

"_I'm listening_," she replied with a concealed sexiness in her voice, her tongue – just slightly – touching her teeth. No one else would have notice but he did. That sexiness only he knew about.

He looked at her with lust in his eyes, and said with a hint of double-meaning, "_Oh yeah…."_

By five pm, after three hours playing amateur but competitive football, nearly everyone has gone home.

"Would you like to play?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll be the goalie," she said.

Spike ran into the middle of the pitch, he deftly dribbled the ball, passing it between his left and right foot. Even kicked it up in the air and used his shoulders to move it forward. Win watched the ball, conscious that she mustn't let her guard down.

He moved forward, got to within 20 metres, stopped. He ran to the left, stopped, controlled the ball and kicked it to the left. To her surprise, he ran backwards and then just as swiftly turned back to volley the ball high overhead. She tried to punch it back but it found the back of the net, "GGGGOOOOAAALLLLL."

Spike pulled his shirt off the back of his neck, twirled it around above his head, ran to the middle of the pitch and slid down on bended knees. As he imagined it, kissed the ground, then looked up to the sky, arms raised in triumph.

Winnie walked over to him just as the skies opened. Rain bucketed down, first in drizzles and then in torrents. She knelt in front of him, kissed him passionately in the wet drenched to the skin. The rain being the only witness to a love all fired up… played beautifully by an Azurri.


	49. No Regrets

**No Regrets**

For their first anniversary; on a date they agreed on was their true anniversary, Spike booked them for a week-end in a cottage somewhere near Lake Simcoe. It's a familiar place to him since he'd spent week-ends there in the past, in a small cottage off the beaten track he used on occasions to restock and to meditate on his life.

They arrived while it was still day, with enough daylight to enjoy the great outdoors. They walked hand in hand and wondered why they hadn't done this earlier. The tranquil setting and the time and the sun coming down on the horizon sparked something, reawakened something that's been missing in the last couple of months when their lives were overtaken by the ordinariness of life.

It was getting colder so they headed home. Spike got the fire going, they ate their dinner by candle lights while the music played. Theirs has been a love affair quite uncommon. They had to know without a doubt this was what they wanted for the risks were many and the costs of love could be steep. **No regrets.**

The love making was what it should be, unhurried, passionate and pleasing for both of them. But it was after they made love that Spike _really_ made love to her. He wrapped their naked bodies with a blanket in front of the roaring fire. She, in-front of him, his legs and arms around her, his chin on her shoulder.

From memory, Michaelangelo Scarlatti recited Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnet 43, "How do I Love Thee" to Miss "Sunshine" Winnie Camden

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

When he finished reciting it, he rocked them gently from side to side until they fell over. They stayed that way, spooned together on their side and Spike repeated the same poem that now mean to him as Elizabeth meant it for Robert many, many years ago.

_Until later, the end._


End file.
